


RUN!

by theUpside



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: ATEEZ as University/College students, ATEEZ as athletes, Alternate Universe - College/University, Hongjoong has red hair, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other idols as side characters, Overcoming injuries, Probably slow burn for some of the relationships, Run with the Wind AU - Sort of but not really, Swearing (sorry mom), Track and Field AU, because I said so, it's fun i promise, sorry - Freeform, they are all stressed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25272175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theUpside/pseuds/theUpside
Summary: Injuries get the best athletes no matter how hard they try. No one can have a perfect carreer.Mingi is a pole-vaulter out on injury trying to recover in time for the start of the season. Seonghwa is desperate for a perfect run in the hurdles. Wooyoung is trying to win the position of top runner ahead of his seniors. Jongho wants to make an impact in his first year. Hongjoong can barely stay awake but can't go to sleep. Yunho is just trying to help others but forgets about himself. San doesn't believe in himself. Yeosang just wants to believe in something.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 41
Kudos: 110





	1. I Wanna Get Better

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work! Thanks for taking a peek at it!  
> I tried my best at keeping the track and field jargon to a minimum but it didn't really work out that way... sorry. This is kinda like one big mash-up of Run with the Wind, Haikyuu and my own personal ideas. More characters will be introduced in the next chapter.  
> Also: I mean no disrespect to anyone, the characters are not my own and it's all in good fun. Please be respectful of other people's work too!  
> Please let me know what you think!

_Mingi_

Mingi’s leg couldn’t stop bouncing. But who wouldn’t be nervous at a doctor’s office? Well, it wasn’t a normal doctors office exactly, but the familiar smell of rubbing alcohol and a fluorescent-lit waiting room only added to Mingi’s already mounting anxiety.

Physiotherapy was suggested by both his coach and Seonghwa as a possible treatment for his back problems. It had already been three months since his accident, but the feeling of the pole snapping beneath his weight, and the freefall to the ground haunted his nightmares.

He shivered at the memory.

Pole-vaulting was no easy feat. His friends always found it ironic that someone as scared as Mingi, could quell his nerves enough to sprint down a 30-meter lane, only to launch himself over 5 meters in the air with nothing but the help of a carbon-fiber pole and land on a mat below.

These days, Mingi has no idea how he did it.

He takes a deep breath. The university’s PT clinic is well known for helping students overcome some serious injuries. Wooyoung, who had hurt his foot in a collision between him and another runner, swore by the clinic, saying that the doctor had the touch of god.

He was able to start running again within 6 weeks, so Mingi decided it might be a good idea to try his luck here. What did he have to lose at this point?

“Excuse me,” a voice said quietly. Mingi looked up from his lap and all the air rushed out of his lungs in an instant. 

The guy who stood before him was, in a word, beautiful. His brown hair was soft, styled slightly to expose his forehead and his eyes, which reminded Mingi of the eyes of a cute puppy dog.

He adjusted his glasses and coughed out, “Yes?” He hoped his voice came out more confident than he felt.

 _Hoped_ is the key word…

The guy smiled and Mingi felt his ears burn.

“Are you Song Mingi?” he said, his voice low, but somehow still bright. Mingi nodded, not trusting his voice. He silently cursed Wooyoung for not telling him that the doctor also _looked_ like a god.

“Great,” the guy said, smiling, “Follow me.” Mingi stood up and followed him down the hall away from the waiting area and into one of the exam rooms. The room was small, with most of the space being taken up by the examination table and a desk.

Mingi sat down on the table, which forced him to face a mirror hanging on the wall. He averted his eyes when he saw how red his face was and kept his gaze on the floor to keep the doctor from seeing too. He really didn’t know how he was going to survive this guy poking around his back without melting into a puddle.

“Ok the doctor will be with you in a little bit.” Mingi’s head snapped up. “He’s with another patient.”

“You mean you’re not the doctor?” Mingi asked. The guy in question giggled and Mingi’s heart just about burst.

“No, I’m just a volunteer receptionist.” The guy must have been able to read Mingi’s face like an open book. “I’m a student here at the university. What about you?”

Mingi’s reply came after a long pause, his brain frantically trying to catch up with the information that was pouring in.

 _This hot guy goes to the same university as me… I’m fucked_ is what his brain so helpfully spat out.

“I’m a chemistry student.” He said finally.

The guy’s eyes widened. “That’s awesome! I’m an engineering student.” Mingi’s brain supplied another thought: _Hot guy who goes to the same university as me is also smart… I’m fucked._ He tried to shake the thought out of his head, though seeing this guy made the trip to the clinic much more worthwhile.

So much so that he forgot briefly why he was so nervous about coming here in the first place.

“I have to get something,” the hot guy said, heading out the door. “Hopefully the doctor will be here before I get back.” Mingi’s nerves immediately came back, wondering if it would be weird to ask the guy to stay with him, but he nodded his head and waved lamely at the guy, who smiled in return, warming Mingi from the inside out.

Alone in the room, Mingi let out another breath. Realistically, if he wanted to pole vault ever again, he needed to get better. He looked around the room again, eyes settling on his reflection in the mirror. Standing, Mingi lifted his shirt up and turned around, looking over his shoulder at his back in the reflection.

He remembered when his back was a mottled mess of bruises, a sight that had Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho crying along with him as he tried to move without causing himself excruciating pain. The memory of lying on the track, his friends looking down at him with concern and fear on their faces made his eyes prickle. 

He was viciously ripped out of his thoughts when the door behind him opened and the hot guy from earlier walked in carrying towels, and stopped short when his eyes met Mingi’s (very bare) torso.

Blushing furiously, Mingi shoved down his shirt and stuttered out “S-sorry.”

The guy opened his mouth to say something, but the doctor chose that exact moment to walk in, moving swiftly around the guy to get to Mingi.

“You must be Mingi,” he said extending his hand, completely oblivious to the situation he was interrupting. “My name is Dr. Jung, could you tell me why you’re here today?”

Mingi’s body reacted before his head caught up. He shook the doctor’s hand and sat back down on the table looking to the guy still standing in the doorway. His cheeks were stained pink, which made Mingi avert his eyes. He studied the doctor instead, who motioned for the guy to hand him the towels he was holding and then waved him out of the room.

The doctor was young, with a handsome face and a bright smile. “That’s my new receptionist,” he explained looking over a clipboard. “I take on students who are interested in physiotherapy to work here sometimes. He’s the first engineering student who’s asked me for a job.” The doctor set the clipboard aside and looked at Mingi.

“So, you have an injury,” he said curtly.

Mingi nodded. “It was an accident,” he said. “I’m a pole vaulter and my pole snapped from underneath me when I was in the air.” The doctor nodded, scribbling on a paper on the desk.

“And you landed on your back I assume?” he said without looking up.

“Yes, I landed half on the safety mat and partly on the track.” He replied. Dr. Jung grimaced.

“That must’ve hurt a lot,” he said. Mingi nodded. The doctor sighed. “Well, the x-rays from three months ago show nothing broken, which is good.” He added quickly, smiling. He stood up, coming over to Mingi.

“Do you mind if I had a look at your back?” He smiled again, “Sorry it’s a little awkward, but I’m just doing my job.”

Mingi peeled off his shirt and turned so his back was facing the doctor. At least hot guy wasn’t here this time. Dr. Jung gently touched his back asking him if it hurt when he put pressure on certain spots. When he was finished, he reached for the clipboard again and wrote a couple more notes under the stuff he had written earlier.

“I have good news and bad news,” he said. “I’ll tell you the bad news first.”

Mingi tried to repress his anxiety. Even if he was scared to try and jump again, he still longed to do it. He never told his friends, but some nights he dreamt about being able to jump through the air again. Though more often than not, the dreams descended into nightmares and Jongho had to hold Mingi until he was calm enough to go back to sleep.

Some nights Jongho fell asleep holding him, but Mingi didn’t really complain.

He nodded tentatively, bracing himself for the worst. “You’ve done a really good job taking care of the injury over the last three months. Right now, it looks to me like the worst is over.”

Mingi’s eyes went wide. “That’s the bad news?” he said practically falling off the table.

Dr. Jung held up a hand. “You didn’t let me finish.” Mingi’s heart sank. “It’s bad news because there is still more work to be done. There are spots of inflammation along the bottom half of your spine, it’s going to take more time to heal up.”

The disappointment in Mingi’s face must’ve been evident, because the doctor quickly recovered and told him the good news, which nearly sent Mingi flying to the floor.

“Eight more weeks? That’s it?” he questioned, not believing what he just heard.

“I’m hopeful.” The doctor said with a small smile. “With the help of some physio treatments, I think you might be in shape to jump again before the start of the university’s official season.”

Mingi’s heart started racing, imagining the feeling of flight again. Would he feel it again so soon?

Ending the appointment on a positive note, Dr. Jung suggested that he come by the clinic at least once a week for his treatments. When the doctor led him back out to the waiting room, Mingi practically ran out the door, avoiding the eyes of the hot guy seated at the reception desk, who was putting papers into a filing cabinet.

He texted Wooyoung and told him that he’d be at practice tonight and that he had good news.

He hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. 

_Seonghwa_

Seonghwa walked quickly through the university’s music department. Unknown to many individuals of the track team, it was actually a shortcut to get to the athletics stadium on campus. Though some of the students gave him weird looks when he came down here holding a gym bag rather than an instrument case, he didn’t mind when it meant he could get from the labs to the track with time to spare.

As a third-year med student, he really didn’t have much time for anything, but somehow everything found its place. Including track practice.

The 110m hurdles, Seonghwa’s specialty and main event, was one of the most technically demanding races held on the track. It required precision, timing and killer start speed. In hurdles, most people say that the race is already decided by the time the last runner jumps over the first hurdle.

It’s challenging, it’s dangerous and Seonghwa loved it. The danger of it made it that much more exciting to watch. At least that’s what Jongho said.

Today, the music department was particularly quiet, which was odd, because Seonghwa always walked to the track feeling like his ears were bleeding. Most of the practice room doors where closed, seemingly empty, but one of them was open at the very end of the hall, soft piano music coming from inside.

 _Whoever is playing must be very good_. Seonghwa thought getting closer to the end of the hall. He frowned when the playing suddenly turned sluggish and slow, not sounding at all like the sound from seconds ago.

When Seonghwa reached the end of the hall, he heard a loud _thunk_ , and the sound of a whole bunch of piano keys being hit at once.

And then silence.

Unease creeping in, Seonghwa stopped at the door and peered in. There, beside the piano bench on the floor, was a body.

Instincts kicking in, Seonghwa tossed his bag on the floor and rushed over to the body. He placed his fingers on the person’s wrist feeling for a pulse. He was about to grab his phone to call 9-1-1 when a small whine came from the body beside him.

The person shifted and sat up rubbing at his eyes and yawning. Seonghwa stared in disbelief as the person slowly became aware of his surroundings. Seonghwa was still holding onto his wrist.

“Are you okay?” Seonghwa asked him, letting go of his hand. The man blinked a few times before turning to Seonghwa with a sour expression.

“Don’t you know not to disturb someone’s sleep?” he said.

Seonghwa didn’t know how to react.

He stuttered, “Yo- you- you were sleeping?”

The man ran his hands through his dyed red hair and stood up.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I had proper sleep?” he asked, annoyance mounting. “Couldn’t you have just minded your own business and just left me on the floor?”

Seonghwa opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“I mean, seriously,” the man continued. “We’re all stressed as hell here, haven’t you fallen asleep in random places in the middle of the afternoon?”

This time, Seonghwa’s mouth finally cooperated. “So what?” he asked, annoyance and disbelief creeping into his voice. “I was just supposed to leave an unconscious body on the floor of a _university_ practice room _without_ at least making sure they were still alive?”

“ _Yes,”_ the man said, crossing his arms.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “You cannot be serious. What if you had overdosed on drugs or something? You’d be dead right-- don’t roll your eyes at me!”

The man stepped up to Seonghwa and he became aware at how much height he had on him, but the look in the man’s eyes made Seonghwa forget that prospect pretty quick.

“I’ll roll my eyes whenever I want,” he growled, “and I’m not on drugs so you can cut the crap on the art hippie thought that passed through your head right now.”

Seonghwa balked at the guy. “You’re really arguing with me over being woken up? And I didn’t think you were a hippie!” He practically yelled the last part, his anger starting to overtake his rational thinking. 

“Don’t yell at me!” the guy said loudly (VERY loudly). “Don’t lie to me either! I know your types. The perfect student always trying to be above the oh-so _lazy_ art students,” he placed his hands on his hips. “Tell me, what science are you majoring in?”

When Seonghwa couldn’t find his voice, the man started moving around collecting his bag on the floor and stacking up the papers on the music stand next to the piano. “I’m right then,” he said sharply. He looked right into Seonghwa’s eyes and Seonghwa felt himself shrink back, avoiding the piercing stare.

“Next time you come by here, don’t wake me up,” he spat out, storming past Seonghwa.

Seonghwa ran out the room and called down the hall to the man’s back. “There won’t _be_ a next time!”

“Good!” he yelled over his shoulder. “I have enough things disturbing my sleep and I _certainly_ don’t need to add _YOU_ to that list!”

“I don’t even know why I cared enough to check on you in the first place!” Seonghwa yelled back.

“Then don’t care about me!” he said, turning back to face Seonghwa.

“Fine then, I won’t!” Seonghwa shot back.

“Good!” was the man’s response.

Seonghwa huffed out a breath and turned on his heel, pushing past the doors and heading out to the athletics stadium.

When he got there, he was greeted by a smirking Wooyoung, and a very angry Chan. Scowling, he pushed past both of them but not before Chan called after him angrily.

“Practice started 10 minutes ago. Where have you been?”

Chan was the captain of the track team, and only because he was one year Seonghwa’s senior. He was also unfairly fast for his size, just like Wooyoung.

“Don’t worry hyung,” said Jongho, coming from behind and placing a hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder. “They just missed you.”

Seonghwa smiled at the younger. Jongho was among the newest members of the track and field team, he was a discus thrower and even though he was a first-year musical theater major, he had already broken the previous discus record by another 5 meters. (He had also then broken his own record another two times after that)

Wooyoung joined them, throwing an arm over Seonghwa’s shoulder and pulling him close. “Yeah, hyung,” he said sarcastically, “I missed you so much that I told Chan I wasn’t going to run without you.”

Seonghwa raised his eyebrows, but Wooyoung spoke again. “Mingi said he would be coming by.”

That got everyone’s attention.

Chan turned to them, the earlier traces of his anger at Seonghwa long gone, replaced by the concern for his younger teammate. “Is he going to be okay coming by? The last time he was here he…” Chan didn’t continue. They all knew what happened anyways. Seonghwa doubted he could ever forget the way time seemed to stop when the pole snapped with Mingi almost four meters in the air.

He shivered. Jongho’s eyes were downcast and Chan was frowning.

Wooyoung broke the silence. “He said that he had good news,” he ventured a look at Seonghwa. “Maybe the PT clinic worked well for him.”

“Let’s hope that’s true,” Chan said. “Alright everyone, get warmed up! It’s a long one today!”

Wooyoung groaned along with the rest of the team. “I swear, if he makes me run 400-repeats, I will step on his foot with my spikes.”

“It’s pre-season, hyung,” Jongho said. “You won’t be wearing spikes.”

Wooyoung shot him a scalding look. “I’d like to see you try to run 10, 400’s in a row.”

Seonghwa laughed and ruffled Wooyoung’s hair. “And I’d like to see _you_ toss a two-kilogram disk over 50 meters.”

The three of them started forward, heading towards the benches where Wooyoung and Seonghwa left their stuff when they were running. Jongho and Mingi opted to take their stuff with them, with Jongho going into the far fields surrounding the track to practice and Mingi needing to be near the jumping areas.

Seonghwa had just started pulling his running shoes on when he heard a quiet voice say “Hyung.”

He looked up and smiled at the familiar lanky frame. “Mingi,” he said pulling the taller boy into a hug. Mingi wrapped his arms around Seonghwa and tucked his face into Seonghwa’s shoulder. When he pulled back, Mingi’s glasses were askew but he was smiling brightly.

“Hyung, the doctor said that I might be able to jump again in eight weeks!”

Wooyoung and Jongho had already started their warmup laps and were on the other side of the track, Chan however had showed up just at the right time to hear Mingi’s declaration.

“Mingi!!” he yelled excitedly, jumping and throwing his arm around the taller boy’s shoulder. “That’s great news man!”

Seonghwa however, wasn’t so excited. “Mingi,” he said, tone concerned. Immediately both Chan and Mingi’s smiles dropped off their faces. “It’s not that easy and you know it.”

Mingi sighed. “Yeah, I know. I have to get treatment once a week at the clinic, and I’ll have to continue with the exercises that I’ve been doing for the last three months.”

“It’s not just that Mingi,” Seonghwa hated how parental he sounded. “You’ll be practically starting over. You remember how hard it was for Wooyoung to come back after his injury? It wasn’t just pain that was holding him back.”

Mingi visibly deflated, probably remembering Wooyoung’s tears of frustration as something as simple as running 100 meters became a nightmare. Seonghwa and Chan shared a look.

“Mingi,” Seonghwa tried, venturing a peek at the other. He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Chan.

“What if you came to watch the meet this weekend?” Seonghwa glared at him, but Chan continued anyways. “It might help you remember some of the movements of vaulting.”

Seonghwa forgotten about the team selection meet this weekend. It was an opportunity for the coaches to see what needed to be done in order to improve the team’s overall performance. It was pretty lowkey, with the only participants being the university’s track and field team. They were essentially competing against themselves instead of other universities.

Mingi looked to Seonghwa, almost confirming if it was alright. Seonghwa smiled and watched as Mingi’s entire face lit up, like a sunflower turning to the sun. There was nothing wrong with watching, as long as Mingi didn’t get any ideas about making an early comeback.

“I’ll be there,” he said, directing his smile at Chan.

When Wooyoung and Jongho returned, Chan relayed the good news. They both jumped on Mingi, with Seonghwa pulling them off quickly, reminding them that Mingi’s back wasn’t quite healed just yet.

“But it’s going to be alright, right hyung?” Jongho asked Mingi.

Mingi thought about it for a moment, and his answer had Seonghwa feeling like things had righted themselves.

“It’s going to be alright.”

_Honjoong_

Hongjoong stormed into the photography club room, reeling in anger from his encounter with that unfortunately handsome science student. When Hongjoong had woken up and laid eyes on his (not) savior, he was almost positive that he was dreaming.

That was until the other had opened his mouth, and then Hongjoong’s fantasy had come crashing down. He was awake, and he had not gotten the sleep he so desperately needed.

He couldn’t remember the last night he actually slept through the night… must’ve been before became the head of the photography club… definitely before the gig he picked up playing music at the campus bar every Saturday…

It had been a while. But Hongjoong swore that if he could get even an hour of sleep during the day and then a couple more at night, he could survive.

Today though, he had reached his limit. He spent all of last night working on a new track for himself, planning to unveil it on Friday at his gig at the bar, and then he had gone straight to his morning art history class, his small hands gripping a cup of coffee like he could choke out more caffeine.

He was pretty sure he also hadn’t eaten all day; he had spent the time between his classes drawing a sketch for an art project and drinking more coffee.

He was also pretty sure he needed a change in routine.

He turned on the lights and sat down at one of the many computers lining the perimeter of the small classroom. He was the only one there, but he was sure that the others would slowly trickle in as the meeting went on. Even though the majority of the meetings were just Hongjoong alone with the teacher-supervisor planning out what needed to be photographed during the week.

Hongjoong had recruited his friends to join the club, but Yeosang was the only one that could make it most days with San being stuck at volleyball practice and Yunho working at his new job at the Physiotherapy clinic. They had already gotten several warnings from the Student Union that they needed to recruit more people or they wouldn’t be allowed to run anymore.

But Hongjoong was determined to keep it going. They partnered with the university’s News club to provide photos of different students-led events and sports competitions. It was a fair trade, mostly because the head of the News club had covered for them by saying they were part of his club, saving them from the chopping block.

A knock at the door shook Hongjoong from his thoughts. Mr. Kim, the teacher supervisor and Yeosang walked in, Yeosang sitting next to Hongjoong and Mr. Kim standing in the middle of the room.

“I have a task for you guys!” He exclaimed brightly. “This weekend is the university’s pre-season track meet and the news club needs photos!”

“Yay,” Yeosang grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Hongjoong smacked the other on the back of his head.

“Ow!” he cried, “Why would you do that?” Yeosang turned betrayed eyes to Hongjoong, but Hongjoong ignored him.

“We’ll do it!” he said, smiling at Mr. Kim.

Mr. Kim explained more of the details, telling Hongjoong and Yeosang that they had to get photos of every event, including the field events.

“Why do they need so many?” Yeosang asked, looking annoyed, “We’ll be there all day!”

“Apparently it’s a special issue,” Mr. Kim explained, “They’re publishing the stats of some of the university’s top competitors. I guess it’s for the coaches and professional teams to look at.”

He frowned suddenly. “I forgot to mention something,” he tapped a finger against his chin. Hongjoong leaned forward. “Most of the events can be photographed from the stands, but the throwing events are a little different.”

“How are they different?” Yeosang whined. “Can’t we just take photos of them from the sidelines or something?”

“That’s the problem,” Mr. Kim replied. “The throwing events are very dangerous and only officials and athletes are allowed in the competition area. But there are ways around it, like using drone or automated cameras that can be operated far from far away.”

Hongjoong turned to smile at Yeosang, raising his eyebrows. Yeosang widened his eyes at the other.

“Hyung, no. I’m not sacrificing one of my drones for this.”

Hongjoong started pouting. Yeosang rolled his eyes, but Hongjoong already knew his answer.

Yeosang huffed. “ _Fine_ , but I better not be the only one helping out with this.”

Hongjoong turned to Mr. Kim who just smiled. As the meeting ended, Yeosang reminded Hongjoong the price of the drone they were going to use. Hongjoong promised that he would replace the drone if it had gotten damaged, even though he was utterly and completely broke.

 _Photographing a track meet,_ he thought, walking beside Yeosang back to their dorm room. _How hard could that be?_


	2. Like a River Runs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you so much sticking around for chapter 2! This is really fun to write and I'm glad that others like it too! As always, this is all for fun so... enjoy!
> 
> Please let me know what you think!

_Hongjoong_

Hongjoong had been at the university for three years and he had never, _ever,_ set foot into the athletics stadium. He had never needed to, so why would he bother? The closest he ever got was the gyms where he would watch San play volleyball and that was it. It surprised him just how _big_ the track was. In the Olympics, 400 meters never looked _that_ long, of course they were also world class athletes, but according to what Mr. Kim had said, some of the athletes here were close.

He walked into the stadium with a peppy Yunho and a grumbling Yeosang, holding onto his drone like someone might try and take it from him. Unsurprisingly, it was very easy to convince Yunho to join them. Though Yeosang tried desperately to sway the other, Hongjoong knew that Yunho would never turn down the opportunity to help him out.

Hongjoong walked to the edge of the track and tapped his foot on the surface. He was surprised to find that it was almost bouncy, like a very hard red sponge. He stepped out a little further and tried jumping a little, smiling at the feeling of lightness on his feet.

“TRACK!” he heard someone shout. Hongjoong turned sideways with wide eyes and saw a familiar raven-haired boy sprinting right towards him.

Hongjoong stood frozen as the guy continued down the track, not showing signs of slowing down.

“ _TRACK!”_ the guy roared, getting dangerously close. Hongjoong let out a yelp as he was viciously pulled back by his arm, the guy blowing past him seconds after. Yeosang held his arm in a crushing grip.

“Thanks,” Hongjoong murmured, letting out a breath. He turned to Yeosang who simply stared at him before letting go and walking back to Yunho, who was looking at a map posted on the side of the stands. 

Hongjoong shivered. He slowly turned back to face the track and nearly jumped out of his skin when the guy from earlier stood right in front of him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. His eyes flicked up and down Hongjoong’s body, starting with his red hair and going all the way down to his beat-up sneakers. His pretty mouth turned into a scowl.

“Don’t you know not to step into someone’s lane?” he snapped.

Hongjoong glared at the guy. “It’s you again.”

The guy stepped forward, gaze hardening. “I really don’t need this right now. Stay out of my way.”

Hongjoong scoffed, but the guy turned away and jogged back to where he came from. He watched as the guy ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before crouching down to adjust his starting blocks.

_A shame really,_ Hongjoong thought, _that someone as handsome as him could be so rude._

“Hongjoong!” Yunho called, waving him over. He turned around, sparring one last glance at the guy on the other end of the track. Hongjoong almost stopped when he saw the look on the other’s face.

Brows drawn tight and jaw clenched, but not in anger.

_He’s nervous._

_Yunho_

“Yunho, come on, help me convince him that this is a waste of time!”

Yunho looked down to Yeosang’s pleading face and smiled. “Sorry Yeo, not gonna do it.”

Yeosang glared at him but Yunho didn’t waver. Hongjoong finally joined them after staring at the hurdle runners for a second too long.

“Do you know one of them?” Yunho questioned.

“One of who?”

“Nevermind.” Yunho was buzzing with anticipation. He would never admit it but he felt his heart race each time he thought he saw a tall person with glasses.

Yunho didn’t believe in love at first sight. At least not until he saw Song Mingi at the physiotherapy clinic.

Yunho had spent nearly five minutes hiding behind the reception desk trying to calm his beating heart in order to talk to the other and had nearly lost it all when he walked in to the exam room and Mingi was practically shirtless.

He didn’t know much about Mingi, but he knew that he wanted to get to know him. He felt his ears burn as he thought about the cute brunette with glasses perched on his nose at an odd angle. Dr. Jung had mentioned in passing that Mingi was a pole vaulter, so Yunho was determined to find an excuse to go to the other side of the track and look for him.

He knew that tons of athletes went to PT in order to keep themselves from getting injured, and from what he could see with Mingi, he was positive that he would be here today. There was no way that his body could look that ripped if he was injured.

“What are you thinking about?” came a voice in his ear. Yunho jumped and looked Yeosang who was looking at him with brows raised and a grouchy look on his face.

“Come on guys!” he whined looking at Hongjoong, who was _still_ looking at the hurdle runners. “Am I the only one who wants to get this over with?”

Both Hongjoong and Yunho looked at Yeosang with owlish eyes and blank looks.

Yeosang groaned again. “FOCUS!”

“R-right.” Hongjoong stammered. “Right. Okay, let’s split up.”

“Where do you want us _captain_?” drawled Yeosang. Yunho smacked the back of his head.

“OW!” Yeosang glared at Yunho, who smiled at his sharp look and turned his attention back to Hongjoong.

“I’ll go take photos of the jumpers.”

Hongjoong gave him an appreciative look. “Thanks, Yunho.”

He turned to Yeosang. “I’m assuming you don’t want to let anyone touch your drone, so you can take photos of the throwers.”

Yeosang shrugged, but clutched his drone tighter. “How long do we stay here then?”

Hongjoong looked to Yunho, but he simply shrugged. He really didn’t care how long they stayed, as long as he got the chance to maybe see Mingi.

He took the camera handed to him from Honjoong.

“Well then,” he said, “Good luck everybody.”

_Yeosang_

_This is the worst,_ Yeosang thought, trudging through the grass fields to the throwing areas. On his way there, he passed by a group of students carrying what looked like heavy round stones, and then he saw another group with heavy round stones attached to strings. Then there was the group with long pointy sticks, and finally he passed a guy holding what looked like a frisbee made of rock.

“Why did I let Hongjoong talk me into this?” He grumbled to himself, holding his drone in a death grip. “These all look like weapons.”

In the distance, he heard the sound of the start gun and the voice of an excited announcer. Yeosang sighed. “I guess I better get started.”

Mr. Kim’s words came floating back to Yeosang. He didn’t need to be told twice about the dangers about the throwing events. He followed the fenced perimeter of the field until he reached a caged structure open on one side, with a group of athletes on the other side. They were all watching someone on the inside, who spun like a dancer on a circular slab of concrete before launching the rock frisbee into the air.

Yeosang gasped as he watched the disk fly at least 50 meters before landing on the ground, followed by a frantic group of officials carrying a tape measure and a clipboard. They rushed to the spot where the disk had first hit the ground and called back to the athlete in the cage.

“55.37 meters!”

When the thrower stepped out of the cage, the athletes swarmed him. Yeosang could hear shouts of disbelief and joy as the thrower smiled and let out a cry of triumph. Even Yeosang, a robotics student, could admit that was really impressive. He didn’t think he had seen any robot launch a disk that far, and this guy had done it with muscle alone.

He set down his drone and pulled out his controller, checking the camera attached to the bottom. Yeosang had programed the camera to feed the images directly to his phone, making it a lot easier to capture photos and make sure they turned out okay. He flicked a switch on the controller and the drone roared to life, its little propellers spinning faster and faster until they were almost invisible.

Yeosang hovered the drone a meter off the ground until he sent it high above the fence-structure thing. He sat down and propped his phone on his lap, watching the image on the screen.

He would never admit it to Hongjoong, but watching the discus throwers, (he had learned the name from athletes passing him by) was fascinating. The thrower would hold the disk in one hand and pivot one leg around the other, spinning quickly in the concrete circle and launching the disk into the air.

From what he could hear, so far, no one had managed to beat the distance of the first thrower. He watched others through his phone, but none seemed to get quite as far as the first one.

55.37 meters. Yeosang almost believed that he had heard wrong, but from the distances the others had thrown, this guy was just a cut above the rest.

A stiff breeze whipped through the field making Yeosang shiver and pull his jacket tighter around his body. He regretted not wearing warmer clothes as he looked over his outfit choice. But at least he looked cute. He had paired red overalls with a yellow sweater which according to Yunho, made him look like Winnie the Pooh.

Not that it mattered anyways, it’s not like he was trying to get the attention of any track athletes.

The wind blew again, stronger. Unease bloomed in Yeosang’s stomach as he focused on keeping his drone steady in the air. He just needed a few more photos and then he could fly it back to him. He had flown it in worse conditions, but it didn’t mean that he liked doing it.

A sudden gust of wind had his drone veering to one side. Yeosang scrambled to get in under control as his heart quickened. He toggled the controls rapidly, but the drone didn’t seem to listen. He let out a cry of frustration as the screen cut out and he watched the drone plunge into a patch of trees on the far side of the grass field.

He stood up quickly, shoving his controller in his pocket and ran out into the field.

Right in front of the discus throwers.

_Hongjoong_

Honjoong sat in the stands watching the runners pass by in front of him. He was supposed to be taking photos of them, but his mind kept wandering back to the guy who had nearly run into him. It was the same person who had woken him up in the practice room, but the anger he had for him had fizzled into nothing when he saw the look on his face earlier.

_He looked nervous._

Hongjoong watched a group of volunteers set up rows of hurdles on the track as the race ended. An official came and checked each row, checking the height and the placement of each one. To Hongjoong, it looked perfectly fine, but the officials moved almost every single hurdle back and forth a tiny bit, until it was deemed usuable.

Eight athletes lined up at the start line, one in each lane, as their names were called one by one, along with their personal best time. Something that Hongjoong had picked up while watching was that all of the sprint events had sections of eight athletes that would race at one time, and then when that section was done, it would move on to the next.

Another thing that he noticed, was that each section that passed had athletes who were faster and faster. The last heat usually had the fastest athletes, and the ones with the best times would be in the middle lanes, while those who were slower would be in the outside lanes.

The athletes from the first section settled into their starting blocks and Hongjoong heard the stadium quiet down. This happened before the starting gun went off, almost like the athletes were on a stage and the crowd was giving them their attention.

As each section raced, Hongjoong realized that the hurdles event had everyone in the stands watching, including Hongjoong. He found himself enraptured by the athletes jumping over the hurdles like they were flying. He noticed the pattern in their footsteps, hearing the way some runners would count under their breath the steps between each hurdle, like a tempo and beat in a song.

But it wasn’t all pretty.

Hongjoong grimaced and squirmed each time a runner hit one of the hurdles, making a loud bang, but that wasn’t the worst.

In one of the sections, Hongjoong watched the lead runner trip into the last hurdle crash down hard into the track, sliding at least four meters before coming to a stop. By the time she had pulled herself across the finish line, the race was already over.

By the time the event reached the last section, Hongjoong was standing at the edge of the track, holding his camera in position trying to capture the way the runners just seemed to fly over the hurdle. He wasn’t successful so far, as most of the athletes stumbled or tripped, but the last sections of the race had some of the fastest runners, who ran by so quickly that wind would blow past Hongjoong, making him shiver.

He could feel the excitement of the other spectators as the race reached the final section. Hongjoong held up his camera to capture the athletes but stopped suddenly when he saw the runner in lane four. He lowered his arms to stare at the face of the raven-haired boy, dressed in the university’s track uniform.

To everyone else, he looked the same as the other seven athletes in his section, wearing a simple black jersey and running shorts with a gold stripe down the sides. But the announcer had everyone’s eyes on him as he was introduced to the crowd.

“In lane four with a personal best time of 15.01 seconds, Park Seonghwa.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened as the spectators around him murmured in excitement.

He was the one to watch.

_Park Seonghwa is his name._

Hongjoong felt someone lightly push him to the side. Hongjoong turned his eyes to a very severe looking man dressed in a coach’s uniform for the university.

“Excuse me,” the man said, as Hongjoong moved to make room for him on the sideline. Hongjoong peered up at the man’s face.

He was an older man with sharp features and glasses watching the athletes on the start line. In his hands were a pen and a clipboard. Honjoong tilted his head inconspicuously to read what was on the paper. His breath stuttered when he saw Seonghwa’s name underlined with the note: “MUST NOT HIT HURDLE”

Hongjoong didn’t really understand what that meant, but he felt the sudden urge to protect Seonghwa from this man.

He didn’t understand what that meant either.

He shook the feeling out of his head, but didn’t pick up his camera. Instead he left it in his hand, hanging by his side. He wanted to watch with his full attention.

_“Runners take your marks”_

The athletes placed their feet on the starting blocks and the stadium quieted down. Seonghwa lifted his head to look down the track before lowering it down and going completely still.

“ _Set”_

The gun went off and the runners burst out the blocks.

Seonghwa wasn’t in the lead to begin with, but to Hongjoong he looked like he was flying.

Hongjoong was standing in line with the very last hurdle, but he could see that as the other runners clipped the hurdles and stumbled slightly, Seonghwa was gaining on them.

He didn’t hit any of the hurdles. He was perfect.

Beside him, he heard the coach mutter, “Come on Seonghwa, you won’t make it like this.” 

Hongjoong felt a spike of anger, why wasn’t his coach cheering for him instead? Seonghwa was in the lead now, quickly putting distance between himself and the next runner as he jumped over the next hurdle first, with the rest trailing behind.

“GO SEONGHWA! COME ON! GO!”

The coach suddenly turned wide eyes to Hongjoong, but Hongjoong didn’t care that he just yelled those words out. How could anyone do well without support? Everyone else here was cheering for someone and Seonghwa deserved that as much as anyone… even if he was a rude twat sometimes.

“GO PARK SEONGHWA!” Hongjoong roared with new vigor, Seonghwa was pulling ahead as he reached the last hurdle. He was going to win, Hongjoong was sure of it.

As Seonghwa jumped over the last hurdle, his leg skimmed the top of it and he stumbled for a few steps before recovering and finishing first.

He crossed the finish line breathing heavily, but smiling. The time displayed on the electronic clock was 15.00, with the letters PB next to it.

_Personal best_

Hongjoong felt his lips quirk up at the sight of it. But his joy quickly flooded out of him when Seonghwa’s coach marched over to a winded Seonghwa with a look of anger on his face. The two of them walked behind the stands, Seonghwa following his angered coach like a scolded dog.

Curiousity getting the better of Hongjoong, he followed them behind the stands, but stayed out of sight, listening to the conversation intently.

“Seonghwa, what happened?”

“What do you mean? I got my best time.”

Hongjoong heard a frustrated sigh from the coach.

“You would have had a better time if you had gone out faster at the start.”

“But I caught up—”

“If you want to win in hurdles, everything has to be perfect. You know that. You have to be perfect; you can’t be hitting hurdles and you can’t have any distractions.”

The was no response. Hongjoong peeked his head out of his hiding spot and saw Seonghwa standing in front of his coach with his shoulders slumped and head hung low.

The coach ran a hand through his hair looking exasperated. Like Seonghwa had missed out on a gold medal. He had won, didn’t he?

“You have extra practice to do. Be here tomorrow night.”

Seonghwa’s head lifted and the coach’s expression softened slightly, but the frustration was still apparent. He put a hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder.

“Remember Seonghwa, I’m doing this so that you can be the best. So you can win.” The coach dropped his hand and left, walking past Hongjoong, not even noticing that he was there.

Seonghwa’s shoulders started to shake as he bent over and unlaced his track shoes.

“Did you hear what you wanted?” he asked, voice choked. Hongjoong stepped out of his hiding spot.

“How did –”

Seonghwa sighed. He stood up and walked to where Hongjoong was standing, holding his shoes by the laces. His eyes where glassy with tears unshead. Hongjoong felt his heart clench.

“Are you—”

“Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

Hongjoong’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“Please,” Seonghwa pleaded.

Numbly Hongjoong nodded. Seonghwa gave him a sad smile and continued past him, shoulders straightening as he went.

Hongjoong stood in silence trying to understand what he just heard.

He couldn’t.

_Yunho_

Yunho finally saw Mingi after about an hour of photo taking, but he wasn’t competing like Yunho thought he would be.

Mingi leaned against a fence with headphones on and a blank expression on his face. Yunho tried to meet his eyes, but Mingi continued to look past him, staring at nothing.

Gathering courage, Yunho walked over to him, waving as he got closer.

When Mingi met his eyes, recognition registered on his face, along with a fierce blush that raced across his cheeks and colored the tips of his ears. He took out his headphones and waved back.

When Yunho reached Mingi’s side, he suddenly realized that he knew Mingi’s name but Mingi didn’t know his. He stopped suddenly, mouth hanging open trying to come up with something to say to introduce himself. Fortunately, Mingi saved him from that embarrassment.

“You’re the engineer from the PT clinic, right?” he said in his husky voice.

Yunho let out a sigh of relief. “That’s me. I’m Jeong Yunho.” He waved again, cringing at his lameness.

Mingi giggled. Yunho thought he could get drunk on the sound. “I’m Mingi.”

_I know._ Thought Yunho.

The spectators around them cheered as a pole vaulter cleared another staggering height. Yunho found it incredible that athletes could launch themselves over four meters in the air using a carbon-fibre pole. They used the way the pole would bend and straighten out to lift them to the height they needed and then straighten their legs and twist around to fly over the suspended bar.

And then a free-fall down onto the mats. Yunho would be lying if he said he didn’t get nervous as some athletes didn’t get enough momentum and went flying in the opposite direction.

Mingi sighed and Yunho watched as Mingi seemed to deflate as each jumper continued to clear higher and higher heights.

“Is there something wrong?” Yunho asked. He felt his own mood drop watching the other.

“I used to be able to do that.”

That statement didn’t sit well with Yunho. “What do you mean used to?”

Mingi’s eyes dipped down to the track. “I hurt myself in a bad accident last year. I haven’t been able to jump for a couple of months now.” He whispered the next part.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever jump like that again.”

It dawned on Yunho. “ _That’s_ why you’re at physio.”

Mingi huffed a laugh. “Why do you think I was at PT if I wasn’t injured?”

“I just assumed since your body looks so good that it was more of like a preventative thing –” Yunho clamped his mouth shut, ears burning, and refused to meet Mingi’s eyes. He couldn’t believe he had just said that.

_I’m so stupid…_ he scolded himself mentally. _Why did I mention I saw his abs??_

Mingi laughed beside him, a sound that was both endearing and did nothing to slow Yunho’s already racing heart.

“I did my best while I was injured to stay in shape,” he said sliding his eyes towards Yunho. “Glad to see someone else thinks so too.”

Was he… _flirting_ with Yunho?

“Mingi, hey!”

Yunho lifted his head to see someone walking over to the two of them. Mingi raised his hand and waved back to the guy. Yunho did not miss the slight feeling of jealousy that shot through him.

“Soobin!” The guy who walked towards them had Yunho trying straightening to reach his full height. He tried to hide his grimace when he realized that Soobin was still taller than him.

“What are you doing here?” said Soobin.

Mingi looked to Yunho with a smirk on his face before slinging an arm around the other and pulling him close.

“Just showing my friend Yunho what pole-vaulting is.”

Yunho’s face was on fire. _FUCK._ Is what his brain helpfully supplied.

Soobin smiled. “Glad to see you’re back. We need someone to contend against Johnny. Did you see that he got 5.53 as his PB last week?”

At this, Yunho felt Mingi tense against him. The arm around him tightened ever so slightly.

“Is that in meters?” Yunho murmured under his breath. Mingi didn’t answer him.

“That’s… higher than my record last year.”

Soobin’s smile dropped. “O-oh…”

Mingi shrugged. “It’s fine.” Yunho could clearly see that it was not fine. Soobin sensed the awkward air and quickly said goodbye to Mingi and Yunho. It was a short conversation, but Yunho sensed Mingi’s unease.

The arm around his shoulder dropped.

“Sorry. That’s Soobin, my teammate.” Mingi said looking at the ground.

Yunho’s insides were still on fire, but he tried to sound reassuring.

“It s’okay.” He croaked out. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Are you okay?”

Mingi shook his head. Yunho could see his eyes were wet.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Mingi smiled weakly. “Some other time maybe.”

Yunho nodded. “If you wanted to talk…” he ventured, gauging Mingi’s reaction. “I’m at the clinic Sundays, Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

Mingi’s smiled at him. Warmth flooded Yunho from the tips of his toes all the way to the top of his head.

“I’ll be there on Sunday at 3.”

Yunho smiled back.

_Sunday at 3._ His heart sang.

_Yeosang_

Yeosang didn’t even stop to think that he was in any danger running out into the field. He ran as fast as he could towards the trees, only thinking about the money that he would never get from Hongjoong for the damage to his drone.

“Damn you Kim Hongjoo- _urk!”_

Yeosang was suddenly yanked back by a strong pair of arms that wrapped around his waist and pulled him against an equally strong chest. He let out a yelp as not even five meters away, a dull thunk could be heard, and a discus rolled slowly away from him.

“What are you doing?” Yeosang could feel a voice reverberating on his back.

Eyes wide and shaking slightly, Yeosang turned around as the arms around him loosened. He was greeted by a very handsome (and strong) brunette wearing sweat pants and a windbreaker, but to Yeosang, he was a knight in shining armour.

“Are you okay? What were thinking running out into the field?” he asked shaking his head. “That could have been really bad. Are you okay? You’re shaking.”

Finding his voice, Yeosang squeaked out an answer.

“My drone landed in the trees over there and I really need to get it.”

The knight raised his perched an eyebrow. “A drone?”

Yeosang nodded. “I’m with the photography club.”

“Ah.” The guy said, understanding blooming on his features. “You’ll have to go around the outside of the track to get to those trees, but I’ll take you since no one’s going to beat my throw.”

He grabbed Yeosang’s wrist and held on as they walked quickly back behind the thrower’s area.

“I’m Choi Jongho, by the way.” He said, looking back at Yeosang, letting go of his wrist. “I’m a discus thrower and a musical theater student.”

“Kang Yeosang, robotics student.”

“Nice to meet you Kang Yeosang-ssi,” he smiled, Yeosang felt his cheeks warm, but he didn’t know why.

_Probably the fading adrenaline…_ he thought. His hands were still shaking as he hid them in his pocket. Jongho noticed and smiled encouragingly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” He said as they approached the cluster of trees. “I am the best discus thrower here, not to brag.”

Sudden recognition shot through Yeosang.

“You’re the guy that threw over 55 meters!”

Jongho beamed. “Good memory.”

That’s incredible!” Yeosang gushed. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my _life_ and I work with robots that can crush things using 5000 pounds of force…”

Yeosang kept talking not even paying attention to the trees until Jongho interrupted him, pointing to the drone stuck between two branches in a fairly small apple tree. It was so close, Yeosang could almost reach it. He jumped up and down trying to grab hold of the drone, but the closest he got was his fingers grazing the bottom side of the branch.

He huffed in frustration and turned to Jongho who giggled and the expression on his face.

“Sorry.” He said, still laughing. “Need some help?”

“What could _you_ do? You’re not that much taller than me.”

“Spread your legs.”

Yeosang’s face flamed. “E-excuse me?”

“Not like that!” Jongho laughed, and Yeosang tried to calm his beating heart. “I’m going to lift you on my shoulders.”

“O-oh… right.”

Jongho crouched down and wrapped his hands around Yeosang’s thighs. Yeosang covered his face in embarrassment as Jongho put his head through Yeosang’s (spread) legs and stood up to his full height.

“Can you reach it?”

Yeosang removed his hands from his face and pulled the drone carefully from between the branches. Surprisingly, nothing on the drone seemed broken. Yeosang smiled down at Jongho.

“I got it.” He held up the drone like a trophy.

Jongho let Yeosang down gently. When he stood up, Yeosang noticed he had a leaf in his hair and reached out without thinking about it, taking the leaf out and fixing his hair.

Jongho raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh- Sorry.” Yeosang stammered, looking down at his feet.

Jongho smiled good-naturedly, “It’s all good. Let’s get out of here.”

When they got back to the track, Yeosang almost felt disappointed that their time had come to an end.

“I hope to see you around Yeosang-ssi.” Jongho said, looking into Yeosang’s eyes, before turning around and heading back to the throwing areas.

When he found Yunho and Hongjoong back at the stands, he felt warm and bubbly, which was the opposite of Hongjoong, who looked like someone had told him that the Easter Bunny wasn’t real. Yeosang tried to meet his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Hongjoong looked up. “I’m fine, let’s go. I’ve had enough.”

As they walked out of the stadium, Yeosang looked back, almost imagining the next time he’d be back here again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Track and Field jargon: When someone running on a track yells TRACK! It means move out of the way. It sounds rude but it's to prevent collisions that could result in injuries of both athletes and spectators. 
> 
> I promise Woo/San will get their time to shine in the next chapter so I hope you'll stick around! (I'm really excited for that!)
> 
> Also: I love Johnny from NCT, so yes he's Mingi's rival-ish, but really I just needed another tall character! Soobin is just a supportive teammate. We stan supportive giants. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Giants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here is another chapter! I'm very thankful to everyone that reads this story... it really means a lot! Also: did you listen to ATEEZ's new album? Be sure to stream and vote for INCEPTION so that they can get another win!
> 
> This story is all in good fun so please enjoy!
> 
> (I also opened a twitter where I'll be posting updates on the story as well as ATEEZ and other k-pop stuff so go check it out! @theUpsidee)

_Wooyoung_

Wooyoung clutched his pencil tighter as he shivered in the air-conditioned gym. Even though he was wearing a hoodie and jeans, the cold still found a way through his clothing and made him want to curl up into a ball to conserve heat. He tried to ignore his frustration at the volleyball players who were in shorts and jerseys, completely unbothered by the frigid air.

He was already reeling in anger after his disastrous race on the weekend. It was a good thing that the competition was just the track team, because if it was an official meet, he would have been so, so, screwed. When Wooyoung go to the finish line, almost a whole second behind Chan, he nearly died of embarrassment. Chan slapped him on the shoulder trying to hide his laughter (and failing).

“It happens to the best of us, Woo. Don’t let it get to you.”

Wooyoung turned to him, a threatening look on his face. Chan gave him one look and keeled over with laughter, his attempt to be the supportive captain dissolving in seconds.

Wooyoung felt something tap his nose.

“Wooyoung, you look like you want to kill someone.”

He turned to face Yeonjun, who sat next to him at the scorekeeper’s table. Normally he’d be here suffering with Mingi, but Mingi was gone at physiotherapy, probably pining after the cute assistant he’d be talking about the for the last week.

“Woo, come on. It’s not that bad. It’s just a race”

Wooyoung raised his voice in disbelief. “Yeonjun! IT’s NOT THAT BAD?!!”

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. Wooyoung narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice when he noticed some of the volleyball players looking their way.

“I tripped Yeonjun. _In a race that’s only 100 meters long.”_ He hissed through his teeth.

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “It’s okay! You can’t expect to have perfect races all the time.”

Wooyoung almost snapped back. _That’s not the point._ But he restrained himself. He couldn’t take his anger out on Yeonjun, it was all his own fault anyways.

He cringed when he thought about it. He should have known that his blocks were too close to the start line. Wooyoung had started his race in an uncomfortable position, trying to get his feet to press on the blocks, but being way too close to the line to allow his legs to push back with enough force to give him a good start.

The problem was, Wooyoung needed to have perfect races from here on out. He wasn’t the most stand-out runner, and none of the teams outside the university had reached out to him, like they had for Seonghwa and Mingi.

Wooyoung decided he needed to get better when Jongho, who they had met during summer training, received a message from one of Korea’s top coaches saying that he’s looking into Jongho as a potential for the national team. He hadn’t even done a single throw for the university team.

Though Wooyoung was ecstatic for his friends, he couldn’t deny the feeling of emptiness that invaded his soul. What if he wasn’t good enough to be there? What if they cut him from the university team?

Hence the scorekeeping. He’d heard about it from Chan; a loophole to ensuring that he never lost his spot on the track team, and by default, his friends.

If Wooyoung won the Top Athlete Award (TA or TAA) for this year, he would, for one year, be guaranteed a spot on the track team no matter how poorly he did in competition. Although, most of the previous winners were never ones to slack off, the guaranteed spot didn’t mean as much to others as it did to Wooyoung.

Sometimes he thought that Chan might’ve told him about the award to get him to stop complaining about the practices Chan would run. When Wooyoung would start griping about the distances or the times he had to make, Chan would shout to Wooyoung, “TA! TA! TAA!”

Wooyoung would stop complaining immediately. He also had to be on Chan’s good side for the most part. The captain of the team would be the one to give the final say on who won. He also needed 50 hours volunteering for the Student Athletic Association.

Hence the scorekeeping.

It wasn’t like he minded being a minor official for the university’s sports teams, it gave him the opportunity to learn about new sports (who knew water polo was so aggressive) and most importantly, it gave him time to scope out his current love interest. (A small consolation for having to stay late in the athletics complex)

Yeonjun and Mingi were the only others in his friend group who knew about the volleyball team’s absolutely stunning libero.

_Choi San, #99_

From the very first game Wooyoung had officiated, he was captivated by Choi San’s abilities on the court. Wooyoung didn’t know much about volleyball, other than the rules, but to Wooyoung, San was definitely one of the stand out players, despite not being that tall.

Wooyoung felt his heart stutter every time San ran a hair through his hair, exposing his face, which looked like it had been sculpted by an artist. And when he smiled? Wooyoung nearly died at the dimples that appeared on his cheeks.

One game San had showed up with his hair in a cute little ponytail and Wooyoung had to grip Mingi’s hand to stop himself from making a scene.

Today though, he didn’t see the familiar black and gold jersey with the white number ‘99’ on the back. He tried to look for the raven-haired boy with a white streak in his bangs, but was interrupted by the referee calling the captains in to the scorekeeper’s table.

_Guess San’s not here today._

He shook his head and focused on the paper in front of him. Scoresheets in volleyball were no joke, which is why Wooyoung opted to take the position of controlling the scoreboard, a much easier task and only required watching the referee for which team took the point.

The person who did the scoresheet had to keep track of the rotation of the players, service points, substitutions, penalties and the libero players. If you messed up the rotation, forgot to write in a substitution or left out a point, the game usually halted for several minutes while the referee and the scorekeepers tried to figure out what happened.

Both the crowd and the players hated when that happened, which resulted in insults and cries of disbelief hurled at the scorekeeper’s table.

Needless to say, Wooyoung usually passed the responsibility to Mingi, but he would just have to do his best.

Wooyoung let the captains sign the paper before he got to work. He wrote down the starting lineup for both teams and frowned when San’s number was not given for the libero players. With a nod of confirmation to the referee, letting him know that Wooyoung was all set, the game began.

_San_

San thought he was going to throw up.

He sat on the bench gripping the edges watching the starting lineup take their positions for serve-receive. It was the first time this season that San wasn’t there, decked out in his gold and black libero jersey, ready to receive the serve.

Today, San wore the opposite. The normal black jersey with a gold stripe down both sides that announced his position as a wing spiker instead of a libero.

 _I feel like I’m going to throw up._ He thought, squeezing his eyes shut.

It wasn’t like this was San’s first game. He had been on the team two years, but his position was libero, _not_ wing spiker.

His coach had decided to try San at a new position after their current wing spiker, Seungkwan, had gotten a bad injury and was ultimately benched for the rest of the season.

The team was devastated, and rightfully so. Seungkwan was practically unmatched in the university leagues, being the undoubtably one of the best players on the team for his entire university career.

San had some big shoes to fill. He hadn’t played wing spiker since high school.

The sound of a whistle blowing forced San to open his eyes. He watched the serve from the visiting team and tried to put his focus on the game.

The ball shot across the net and was received nicely by the other libero, Hwanwoong, who hit the ball in a nice arc to the setter which resulted in a deadly quick set to the middle blocker.

The middle blocker of San’s team was, in a word, huge. His nickname was BM, which stood for “Big Matthew” because the guy was just that tall.

BM spiked the ball down, but the opposing team quickly picked it up and lobbed it to the wing spiker, shut the rally down, giving them the first point. This process repeated itself several times and the home team soon fell behind in the first set.

San almost couldn’t believe when the referee blew the whistle, ending the first set in a crushing defeat of 25-13.

It was over before it began.

Hwanwoong flopped down next to San who passed him a waterbottle and tried to look encouraging. 

“Thanks.” He said, giving San a smirk. “You should be out there right now.”

San’s nausea increased a ten-fold. “That’s okay. I’m better off being here on the sidelines anyways.”

Hwanwoong placed his water bottle on the floor and looked San dead in the eyes. “You can’t be serious. You’re a much better libero than me, and we definitely need a wing spiker out there.”

San shrugged, not believing him at all. He wasn’t a wing spiker. He could never be the player they needed right now.

His hands started to shake and he placed them back on the edge of the bench, gripping hard. Hwanwoong noticed and slung an arm around him.

San smiled weakly. “I’m nervous.”

“No shit.”

San was about to say something, but he got called to the team huddle surrounding the captain and coach JB. Hwanwoong practically pushed him off the bench and winked at him, giving two thumbs up. San’s mood lightened slightly at the other’s encouragement.

When he got to the huddle, the captain gave San a disapproving look. San tried not to get discouraged. Seungcheol cared for every member of his team, but he was taking Seungkwan’s absence especially hard, and taking it out on his replacement.

San swallowed, trying to keep his lunch down.

Coach JB began to explain the formations to San. He tried his best to follow, but his nerves began to make his vision swim. From what his (logical) brain could gather, he wasn’t going on until the third set. San was going to be the last-minute substitution if things couldn’t be turned around by then.

Not an uncommon strategy, but one that certainly made San feel like he was being left out, despite the fact he felt like he was about to puke.

It just meant that when the team needed a change up at the last second, San would be the one to pull them through.

No pressure.

San felt someone’s hands on his shoulders. BM stood in front of him, leaning down and looking into his eyes.

“Don’t worry little man. We got your back.”

San eyed him dubiously. “I’m not worried.”

“San, come on. You’re not fooling anyone.” BM let go of his shoulders and straightened. The rest of the team gathered into a circle, with Hwanwoong and BM on either side of San.

“Alright,” Seungcheol huffed. “They’ve given us a bit of a challenge, but we can catch up.” He looked around the members of the team meeting their eyes one by one.

When he met San’s eyes, his face twitched, almost imperceptible, but still there before moving along to the rest of the team. San looked down at his feet, trying to focus on the strong arms of Hwanwoong and BM around his shoulders.

Seungcheol went through the play one more time, taking extra care to remind the team of the particularly strong defense the visiting team had.

“Hwanwoong, remember you can come on to the court without letting the scorekeepers know, but you _have_ to wait for the play to be over.”

Hwanwoong rolled his eyes. “I _know_ dude. I know the rules. I’m the only one who can do that.”

Seungcheol let out a breath, smiling slightly. “I know you know, I was just checking.”

The referee blew the whistle and the team pressed closer to each other, each one placing an arm in the center of the circle.

“ _FIGHTING!”_

As the team dispersed, San resumed his spot on the bench, but since it was service for their team, Hwanwoong was sitting next to him.

They watched the service from Seungcheol. It was a perfect jump-floater which left the front row of the other team scrambling for the ball.

Unfortunately, the other team was, like the captain said, _very_ good at defense and immediately picked up the ball and sent it over the net at an awkward angle, forcing the home team’s back row into an uncomfortable spot.

Seungcheol tried to get the ball to the setter, but because of how far back he was, the setter had to make a run for it and place it for BM, a little to far from the net.

Hwanwoong jumped up from the bench as soon as the ball hit the net on their own side.

Point for the visitors… again.

One of the cool things about playing libero is that you can sub at any point during the game except for during service and in the middle of the play. As soon as the ball hits the ground, the libero can switch out anyone on the backline and stay there until they are rotated to the front, where they will switch with the player they replaced.

They are defense specialists. But there are some limitations.

Liberos can’t cross the attack line, that’s a foul and will give a point to the other team. They also cannot spike the ball, serve the ball or go into the front row.

San watched Hwanwoong run onto the court, switching out with Minho, the other middle blocker. He stood out not only in his uniform of gold instead of black, but because of his size.

Liberos, because they have no need to jump up at the net, are typically on the shorter size. San was a bit of an exception in this rule, he was pretty average in terms of height, even in volleyball.

Hwanwoong stepped into position, bending his knees ready to spring out at the opposing team’s serve. The ball bounced off his ready hands, sending it back to the setter.

San had to give credit to BM, he was really trying but this team was practically unshakable when BM, Minho and Seungcheol tried to make any headway in attacking.

Seungcheol tried to console the team, trying to be encouraging when the noose was tightening around their necks. It became pretty apparent that they needed a serious change up when the second set ended quickly with a point gap that was almost unbelievable.

“How is it possible that we only got 5 points?” Minho practically shook with rage. He and BM were the only ones to get points in the second set, and effectively setting Seungcheol’s last nerve on fire.

Dark looks of anger and shame were apparent on everyone’s faces. Even Hwanwoong was letting frustration cloud his usually cheerful expression.

Coach JB stepped up and called for a team huddle quickly. This was the third set. If they lost here, the game would be over, but if they won, they would play another set.

“We need to step up our defence at the net.” Coach JB looked to BM and Minho, “being at the front doesn’t necessarily mean that you are _only_ responsible for the offensive attacks. Hwanwoong is doing his best, but you who play on the frontlines gotta be sure to block those spikes. Even a deflection will slow the speed of the ball, which will give us some time to get our momentum back.”

Hwanwoong brightened at the compliment, giving eyes to Minho who stuck his tongue out at him. San stifled a giggle, but BM let out a full laugh.

It was something so stupid, but the tension in the team seemed to drain out, being replaced with a little bit of laughter.

Coach JB smiled slightly. “I know you guys can do it; I’ve seen you get out of worse positions.” He suddenly looked to San. “San, you’re going on in the third set, but we’ll have to wait for the right moment.”

San nodded, trying to swallow his fear. The coach eyed him but tried to give him an encouraging smile.

“Don’t be afraid. Just remember that you are not a libero today, so you’ll have to let the scorekeepers know that you’re switching on. We’ll get called for that and lose a point.”

San tried to sound confident. “Who am I taking off when I go on?”

“Seungcheol.”

Silence passed through the team and San looked to Seungcheol who looked like he’d rather lose than let San replace him.

Coach JB ignored the sudden tension that took over the team and called on them to do their cheer.

The referee blew the whistle again, and they went into the third set, hoping that there would be another.

Surprisingly, it actually started to get better. Minho, BM and Seungcheol got rotated to the front row after a missed serve from the other team. From there, the team finally kicked into gear.

Seungcheol blocked almost every hit, making the other team’s hitters very frustrated and very desperate causing them to hit the ball at awkward angles, taking most of the power out of the spike. Hwanwoong picked them up easily, getting them to Minho and BM who were like two cannons, getting almost every spike in.

Slowly, hope flooded the team. San could feel it in the way they stopped flinching at the ball coming at them and making plays they had forgotten to do in the first two sets.

But the other team did not let them win so easily. They came back with a couple of service aces and broke the momentum, giving them the upper hand for a couple of points.

Both teams reached 20 points, each team getting a point going back and forth until it was 23-23.

Here’s the unfortunate thing about winning a set in volleyball. You have to win by two points.

San was on the edge of the bench watching Hwanwoong pick up a nasty spike and sending it to the setter, who gave it an equally devastating hit, but the referee blew the whistle.

Coach JB threw his hands up in defeat as the ref called out to the scorekeepers, “Line violation, #9 on black stepped over the half line.”

San watched the scorekeeper scribble hastily on the sheet before lifting his head up and shooting two thumbs up to the referee.

San smiled to himself, the scorekeeper was pretty cute when he was flustered, he had seen it many times when San would run a hand through his hair. San would be lying if he said he didn’t do it on purpose sometimes, but he would never ask the other out. He deserved someone who didn’t doubt themselves every second.

“San! Switch with Seungcheol now!” Coach JB spoke quickly. Minho and the setter were at the referee’s stand trying to convince him that he’d made the wrong call, but the ref stood by what he said and dismissed them with a warning.

The score was 24-23, one more point for the other team and the game would be over.

Coach JB waved Seungcheol off the court as San passed him quickly and took his spot in the front row. He steeled his nerves and took a deep breath.

 _I can do this._ He said to himself as he peered through the net, watching the player who was serving.

San moved quickly, letting the serve go over his head and letting his instinct take over as Hwanwoong got the first hit on the serve. The ball flew in a perfect arc to the setter who called out San’s name.

_I am not afraid._

San began his run up and the ball reached the setter’s hand and jumped to the net, swinging his arm like a whip, feeling the slap of the ball under his palm.

He brought it down with force, watching it fly to the edge of the court, landing on the line and just out of reach for the opposing team’s libero.

The scoreboard lit up 24-24, a deuce.

San was nearly crushed by the hug Minho gave him, and winced at the slap on the shoulder given to him by Hwanwoong.

The play went on.

A couple of unlucky hits left the home team behind as San was rotated into the serving position.

24-25.

San had to get this. He had to get this.

He took a deep breath and bounced the ball a couple of times before getting into position for his jump serve.

He began to take his steps, gathering speed to the edge of the court. He was about to toss the ball in the air when he heard a loud, booming voice call to the referee.

“Uhhh, I think there’s a mistake in the rotation!”

_Wooyoung_

Wooyoung nearly cried of frustration when he could not find the player serving written in the rotation. He looked to the ref, trying to make a decision whether or not to call it, when Yeonjun looked over his shoulder.

“Wooyoung, that player’s out of rotation, you gotta tell the ref.”

Wooyoung shot him a look.

“I know, I’m just trying to prepare myself.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know!”

“Wooyoung, call it! He’s about to serve!”

Huffing in frustration, Wooyoung stood up and forced himself to sound confident. He waved to the referee.

“I think there’s a mistake in the rotation!”

The referee blew the whistle and took the rotation cards out of his pocket, checking the opposing team first and then the home team.

He looked from the small piece of paper to the players. Wooyoung watched his brows furrow as he looked again to the back row, eyes settling on the server.

He blew the whistle again, calling out, “Substitution error for black, point to red.”

Wooyoung watched as the server dropped the ball to the ground, a pained look on his face. The team across the net cheered in victory.

Suddenly a voice from the bench sounded out in anger.

“San! I can’t believe you!”

Wooyoung whipped his head over to the server, who he now noticed had a stripe of white hair down his bangs. He mentally screamed at himself.

He watched San’s lower lip tremble. “I – I’m sorry.”

The person who had yelled at San stared with intense disappointment before turning away and following the rest of his team who had started lining up for handshakes.

Wooyoung watched San gather his things quickly before running out the gym with their coach calling after him, before giving up and calling his team in for a huddle.

He felt his heart crack.

Wooyoung signed the score sheet without even checking if he had tallied the point correctly.

“If the ref asks, tell him I have a track practice.”

Yeonjun gave him a questioning look. “Woo, it’s almost 9 at night, nobody’s going to believe that. Wait! Where are you going!?”

Wooyoung didn’t answer. He threw his bag on his shoulders and ran out the gym doors into the dark corridors, trying to catch up to San.

_Hongjoong_

Hongjoong didn’t know what possessed him to follow Seonghwa, but here he was, hiding behind the bleachers watching Seonghwa jump over hurdle after hurdle.

 _Ok Hongjoong,_ he thought, _this is not stalker behavior… I am simply watching this person run over hurdles. I am not stalking._

Joong didn’t mean to follow Seonghwa exactly. It was a spur of the moment decision. Hongjoong had been practicing late in the same studio that Seonghwa had found him almost a week ago, when he saw the raven-haired beauty rush past the doors leading out to the athletics stadium.

Curiousity getting the better of him, Hongjoong abandoned his work and grabbed his jacket, following the other out into the night.

He huffed a laugh at where he now stood. It was the same spot he stood in trying to listen in on the conversation between Seonghwa and his coach. Funny how the universe works.

He had been standing in the cold for the last hour, watching Seonghwa go through the motions of hurdle drills, walkovers and finally, actually running and jumping over the hurdles. It was not nearly as interesting as the race he had seen on the weekend, which was much more fast paced.

Seonghwa however, went through each drill and every exercise with the precision of someone who had done these over and over again. Hongjoong had to give some credit to the coach, that jerk really knew how to produce good athletes.

Feeling brave, Hongjoong shuffled slowly away from his hiding spot, shivering in the cold. Seonghwa had begun running over the hurdles in the same set-up they had been for the race. Hongjoong watched him run over them three times with no mistakes.

On the fourth time through, Seonghwa clipped the first hurdle.

Hongjoong held his breath. He stood still, half obscured in the shadows of the stadium lights trying to decide whether or not to take another step forward.

Seonghwa huffed in frustration, but took his spot back at the start line. He stepped into the starting blocks, trying again.

This time, Hongjoong heard Seonghwa count under his breath between the hurdles.

“ _1, 2, 3, up, 1, 2, 3, up”_ He made it to the fifth hurdle before his back foot came down too early and Seonghwa slammed into the ground.

Hongjoong surged forward, but stopped suddenly when Seonghwa simply stood up, expression unreadable, and walked back to the start line. He settled himself into the starting blocks and ran again.

On this run, Seonghwa looked like he did when Hongjoong had watched him race.

Seonghwa flew over each hurdle, feet landing in the perfect rhythm and speed him forward at an incomprehensible pace.

Seonghwa looked like he was unstoppable, then suddenly, at the last hurdle, Hongjoong watched his expression go from focused to conflicted and almost worried.

He jumped anyways, but slightly too close to the hurdle and caught his front foot under the bar and crashed to the ground, sliding forward for a couple of meters.

Ignoring his earlier internal conflict, Hongjoong ran onto the track to where Seonghwa lay sprawled on his stomach.

“FUCK!” He roared, trying to get up, but Hongjoong stopped him quickly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, kneeling down beside Seonghwa’s body. Seonghwa gaped at him, before regaining his composure and giving Hongjoong a dark look.

“Have you been _watching_ me?” he asked, scandalized.

Hongjoong was taken aback, speechless for a moment. He almost said back something to rile the other, but then noticed the scrapes on Seonghwa’s chin as he started to stand up.

“You’re hurt…”

“What about it?” the other shot back. Seonghwa started back to the starting blocks when Hongjoong caught up and grabbed his wrist, turning the other to face him.

“What are –” Seonghwa’s words cut out as Hongjoong began to examine his forearms, holding them delicately.

They were completely rubbed raw by the crash landing on the track. Angry red scrapes stood starkly against Seonghwa’s pale skin, making it look like the other had been in a wrestling match with a carpet. Hongjoong slowly lifted his eyes to Seonghwa’s face, releasing his forearm.

Without thinking, Hongjoong lifted his hands, cradling Seonghwa’s jaw and tilted it upwards to look at the scrape. The other stiffened, but did not pull away.

He heard Seonghwa suck in a breath as he ran his thumbs along the cut.

“Your hands are cold.” Seonghwa murmured.

Hongjoong’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You can let go now.”

Hongjoong released Seonghwa’s jaw and lowered his eyes to the ground feeling his cheeks burn as he realized what he had just been doing.

Seonghwa tried to meet his eyes. “What’s your name? I’ve talked to you three times now, but I don’t even know your name.”

Hongjoong lifted his eyes and met Seonghwa’s own. He watched Seonghwa’s usually stony expression soften into something that others might consider friendly. Seonghwa searched his face and Hongjoong was struck with the realization at how beautiful Seonghwa was. His brown eyes shone in the bright stadium lights as he leaned closer, prompting an answer from Hongjoong.

“H-Hongjoong,” he stuttered at last.

“Hongjoong, I’m Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa smiled and Hongjoong’s heart started racing. His smile was slightly lop-sided and showed off all his teeth. Hongjoong felt his own lips quirk up in response.

His eyes travelled Seonghwa’s face and then focused back on the cut on the bottom of his chin. Seonghwa noticed, and stepped back, smiled being pulled down into a frown.

“Do you have any band-aids?” he asked, tapping his chin, almost as if reminding himself that he had been hurt.

Hongjoong perked up. He put his hands into his coat pockets and fished out three _Hello Kitty_ band aids. Yeosang thought he was funny giving Hongjoong a box of band-aids for his birthday not too long ago, but actually they had come in handy quite a few times, including when Yeosang had cut himself on wire cutters in the robotics lab.

He always had a couple of them in his pockets for such occasions, and he was trying to stop himself from laughing at the look on Seonghwa’s face.

“Cats or cats with flowers?” He held up the band-aids for Seonghwa to see.

Seonghwa pretended to think about it and plucked the one with cats and flowers out of Hongjoong’s fingers.

“Good choice.”

Seonghwa huffed a laugh and peeled the paper off the back of the band-aid.

“Wait –” Hongjoong said before taking the band-aid out of Seonghwa’s hand and tilting up his chin with one finger to expose the cut. He placed the band-aid expertly over the scrape and stepped back admiring his handiwork.

He let out a laugh as Seonghwa pouted saying that he could have done it himself. The pink band-aid with a pattern of cats and flowers really did wonders to lessen Seonghwa’s intimidating demeanor.

“You look really cute.” Hongjoong cooed before his brain caught him, his cheeks burned as he tried to retract the statement. “I mean—”

Seonghwa laughed and Hongjoong immediately shut up, listening to the sound. It was like music.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Hongjoong coughed. “H- How much longer are you here?” he tried to sound like he wasn’t flustered, but he could tell that Seonghwa wasn’t fooled.

“I was supposed to be here until I could get five runs through without hitting the hurdles, but as you can see,” he pointed to his chin “I didn’t succeed.”

“Your coach sucks.” Hongjoong suddenly blurted.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, thinking.

“Yeah, I guess he does. But he’s one of the best.”

“But he sucks.” Hongjoong retorted.

Seonghwa sighed. “I want to get better though. So, he’s all I got.”

Hongjoong shrugged. “He still sucks. He’s an ass and he doesn’t even cheer for you at races!”

“I know he doesn’t.” Seonghwa took a step forward, a mischevious look on his face. “But at the last meet, I heard someone calling my name.”

Hongjoong’s face burned and he took a step back, looking anywhere except at Seonghwa.

“You wouldn’t happen to know who that was, do you?”

Gathering confidence, Hongjoong stepped forward and leaned into Seonghwa’s space.

“No, I don’t.” He felt a jolt of pride at the redness that brushed Seonghwa’s cheeks.

Seonghwa smirked at Hongjoong’s sudden courage and stepped back, giving the much-needed space to Hongjoong who thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Too bad, if you knew, I would have told you to tell him thanks.”

Hongjoong’s heart lurched painfully. “Thanks?”

Seonghwa nodded. “I also would have asked if he wanted to come to the next meet, you know, to cheer me on.”

He smiled sweetly at Hongjoong, the band-aid pulling slightly at the corners. Hongjoong took a deep breath, already regretting what he was about to get himself into.

“Who knows,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “maybe he’ll be there.”

Seonghwa laughed quietly before he turned and started stacking up the hurdles, ending his late-night practice.

“You should probably get going if you don’t want to collapse at a piano again.”

Hongjoong’s face flamed. “Are you going to hold that over my head forever?”

Seonghwa laughed and Hongjoong smiled, waving goodbye to him and heading back into the warmth of the music department.

When he got back to his dorm Yeosang asked him why his face was so red and Hongjoong simply ignored him, looking up the track team’s schedule on the university website.

_I’ll cheer for you. Don’t worry._

_San_

_How could I be so stupid?_ San thought, running through the empty hallways. His feet smacked against the tile as he tried to get as far away from the gym as possible.

His eyes filled as he thought about the looks of disappointment on his teammate’s faces. Hwanwoong had given him a shaky smile, but San could see right through it.

He felt tears drip down his cheeks when the sound of Seungcheol’s yell echoed through his ears.

He squeezed his eyes and ran faster.

San almost made it to the door when someone yanked him back by the wrist. He let out an undignified yelp that was swallowed by his sobs as he finally broke down, letting his knees hit the floor below. He covered his face with his hands and tried desperately to quiet himself down.

Gentle hands clasped his shoulders and soft voice sounded in front of San.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Hey – look at me.” San slowly raised his head as he felt the person remove his hands ever so gently from his face. He felt stomach pool with embarrassment as he realized it was the cute scorekeeper from the game.

He smiled and San felt his tears lessen. “I’m Wooyoung. I was a scorekeeper for your game.”

San sniffled, wiping away his tears. “I’m sorry,” he said brokenly.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened. “Don’t be sorry! I do this all the time. Hell, I cried _yesterday_ because I tripped during a race.” He leveled his gaze at San. “Don’t ever apologize for crying. It’s not good for your skin.”

San couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, but he cracked a small smile at the words anyways.

He watched Wooyoung’s face brighten immediately. He held out a hand to San as he stood up and San let himself be pulled up.

“I’m San,” he said finally.

“I know, I’ve been a scorekeeper for a lot of volleyball games.” He shrugged, smiling, “You’re kinda hard to miss. You’re a really good player.”

San’s heart stopped at the words.

“No, I’m not.”

Wooyoung wasn’t deterred. “What are you talking about? You’re incredible.”

“No,” San said, firmer this time. “I’m not.”

Wooyoung hummed. “Okay, say you’re not. Then why do you play volleyball?”

San was knocked speechless for a moment.

_Why do I play volleyball?_

“I don’t know.”

Wooyoung hummed. “That’s fine. I don’t know why I run either. I guess it’s because of my friends, I couldn’t live without them. They’re like my brothers.”

Wooyoung’s smile showed the affection and love he had for his friends. San tried to think about his own friends. He felt the same way about Hongjoong, Yunho and Yeosang. He probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them.

He didn’t get the same feeling from his teammates though. He tried to imagine Seungcheol as someone like Hongjoong and nearly started crying again.

“You know, it wasn’t that big of a mistake, what happened out there.”

San let out a laugh of disbelief. “Really?”

Wooyoung nodded quickly, missing San’s sarcastic tone. “If anything, it was my fault for not catching that you had walked onto the court.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Wooyoung grimaced. “Actually, it kinda is. Mingi’s the one who usually does the scoresheet. He doesn’t make those kinds of mistakes. Sorry.”

San looked down, trying to hide the sinking feeling in his gut. He could only imagine what was going to happen at the next practice when he had to face Seungcheol.

Wooyoung smiled at San. San noticed that the other was quite a bit shorter than him. He found the sudden urge to reach out and brush back the dark bangs that fell across Wooyoung’s face.

“Hey,” San looked up, deciding to trust his heart once. “Will you be my friend?”

A look of surprise crossed Wooyoung’s features. “Yeah, I guess.” He smiled brightly, “I’d love to be your friend.”

“Cool.” San replied lamely.

“Well,” Wooyoung giggled, “I guess I’ll see you around friend.”

San smiled at the other. “Thanks for helping, friend.”

San and Wooyoung parted ways after exchanging numbers. San’s tears had dried, and he walked to his dorm feeling lighter than he had all evening.


	4. Mountain Sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Thanks for sticking around! 
> 
> Please be warned as there are mentions of blood in this chapter! If that bothers you, go ahead and skip the second half, starting from Yeosang's POV, I'll summarize what happened in the beginning of the next chapter.
> 
> I really appreciate your comments so, please let me know what you think!!   
> Enjoy!

_Mingi_

Mingi watched Dr. Jung out of the corner of his eye as he laid on his stomach on the exam table, a heat pack resting over his lower back. Yunho had come in the room earlier and placed the pack there, along with a pat on his head and some words of encouragement.

“Just keep it up, Mingi.”

This had become their routine at the appointments. After all the treatments that Mingi got from Dr. Jung, Yunho would come in with a heat pack and place it on Mingi to relax the muscles in his back and to (hopefully) let them heal.

He smiled as he thought about the other. Yunho was amazing in every way possible. He was the nicest, most gentle and friendly person that he had ever met. The more Mingi talked to him, the more he fell for the other.

Dr. Jung looked up from the paper he was writing on, catching the dreamy look on Mingi’s face.

“Watch’a smiling about?” Dr. Jung asked, a devious smirk on his face. For someone so helpful, Mingi couldn’t help but feel that the young doctor knew more than he was letting on.

“N-nothing.” Mingi stuttered, face probably flushing. “The heat pack feels really good.”

Dr. Jung raised an eyebrow, but thankfully dropped the subject. He walked over to Mingi, removed the heat pack and helped him sit up.

“You know, he was a dancer.”

Mingi looked to the doctor sharply. “Yunho?”

Dr. Jung nodded. “He danced right up until last year.” He slid a sly look to Mingi. “You should ask him about it.”

Mingi sputtered but Dr. Jung merely ignored him, with a smile on his face and picked up his clipboard checking more things off on the paper.

“Well Mingi, I think it’s okay for you to start going to practice again.”

Mingi jumped up, nearly knocking the clipboard out of Dr. Jung’s hands.

“Really?”

Dr. Jung laughed at his enthusiasm. “I think you’re ready to get back into the movements. But,” he looked directly in Mingi’s eyes. “You are not allowed to compete. It’s one thing to go back to practice, but it’s a whole other situation in competition.”

Mingi nodded. In practice, he was in control of everything. In competition however, the only thing he could control was his own movements.

But any progress was progress and Mingi couldn’t deny the feeling of excitement that flooded his system. It was almost like a confirmation that his dreams of pole-vaulting again weren’t so far away after all.

“Do you know when your next practice is?” Dr. Jung asked.

Mingi thought about it. The team had a meeting this afternoon where they would be announcing the standards for nationals held later in the season. He’d have to ask Seonghwa about it then.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll have to ask Seonghwa-hyung about it later.”

Dr. Jung smiled. “Might I make a suggestion?”

Mingi nodded.

“I find the best way to remember certain movements after injuries is to teach it to someone else.” Dr. Jung stood up and leaned back against his desk. “You should ask Yunho.”

“W-what? Yunho?” Mingi sputtered.

Dr. Jung lifted his eyebrows. “I thought you guys were close.”

“W-were not.” He relented. “At least, not exactly.”

The doctor smirked and Mingi didn’t know what to think.

“He talks about you a lot.”

Mingi blushed. “He’s just being nice.”

Dr. Jung rolled his eyes, but smiled at Mingi anyways. He picked up his clipboard and gestured for Mingi to follow him out the door to the waiting room.

He turned to face Mingi once they got there and handed him the clipboard.

“Give this to Yunho and I’ll see you next week.” He winked as he promptly walked over to the next patient, seated in one of the chairs.

After the doctor and the patient left, Mingi realized that he and Yunho were the only two in the room.

He paused and watched the other at the reception desk. Yunho was dressed cutely in a button down with a blue knit sweater over top.

Mingi swallowed and stepped up to the desk, placing the clipboard on the edge. Yunho looked up and locked eyes with Mingi, smiling brightly.

“Hey.” Mingi said lamely, feeling his cheeks burn.

“Hey you.” Yunho took the clipboard and removed the papers from the metal clip and placed them in a file with Mingi’s name written on the top.

Mingi cleared his throat. “So, listen,” Yunho looked up from the papers he was filing. Mingi nearly choked on his next breath, but managed to keep it together.

“I was wondering if –” he took a breath. “If you wanted to learn how to pole-vault sometime. I could teach you.”

Yunho’s eyes turned concerned. “Are you okay to do that?”

Mingi nodded. “Actually, it was suggested by Dr. Jung to help me remember the movements.” He didn’t mention that the doctor had also suggested he ask _Yunho_ to do it, but that didn’t really matter.

“Alright then.” Yunho smiled. “I’d love to.”

Mingi felt like a cement block had been taken off his back. “Th- That’s great!” he winced at his volume and lowered his voice slightly. “I’ll text you the details?”

“Absolutely. Give me your phone I’ll put my number in.” Mingi handed his phone to Yunho and felt his fingers brush the other’s. His hands were warm.

When it was handed back to him, Mingi smiled at the contact name.

**Yunho :)**

He looked to Yunho and was surprised to see pink dusting his cheeks. He grew bold at the sight leaning over the desk and putting his husky voice to good use.

“We’ll talk later then.” He smiled at the other as he watched the pink blush darken and spread to the tops of Yunho’s ears.

“Y-yep.” Yunho coughed. Mingi felt both guilty and victorious for flustering the other.

It was a weird mix of emotions, but Mingi was too happy to care.

As he left the clinic, he texted Yunho a quick message before pocketing his phone and heading to the field house for the team meeting.

**_New Message – 15:43 PM_ **

**Mingi**

Hey

**Yunho :)**

Hey you

_Seonghwa_

Seonghwa was in the field house with Jongho and Mingi, trying to calm his nerves.

There was really only one way to get to nationals and that was making the standard or “time” for your event and Seonghwa was more determined than ever. Last year, he and several other teammates had made it to nationals and it was incredible.

Even though he didn’t even make it to the finals of the 110 m hurdles, he felt amazing regardless. The competition was _insane_ and some of the top finalists had gone on and represented South Korea in the world championships later that year.

He wanted to go again. His coach would make sure that he ranked among the highest in competition, if not winning the whole thing entirely.

Most of the track team was seated on the floor with Mingi, Jongho and Seonghwa trying to get away with sitting on the high-jump mats, which wasn’t allowed.

Maybe Chan would be too occupied with the team to notice them.

Seonghwa looked at his phone, checking the time nervously. Wooyoung was supposed to be here.

It was unusual for the other to miss practice. Seonghwa knew how dedicated Wooyoung was to the team, he would never miss practice unless it was absolutely needed. When Wooyoung had hurt himself last summer in training, Jongho had to carry the other off the track when he tried to practice before he was completely healed.

Wooyoung tried to be funny and demand the other put him down, but Seonghwa could see how much it hurt him to miss out. Later that night, Wooyoung had been in tears and Seonghwa had to cuddle the other until he fell asleep.

No one like to be injured. But sometimes it couldn’t be helped. Most injuries in track and field come from overuse and not listening to the body when it can’t be pushed any further.

Wooyoung pushed until he broke. He only stopped when he couldn’t stand up, and it only took one runner that didn’t look up and a collision that ended with Wooyoung in physio for six weeks.

He checked his phone again. No message from Wooyoung. Chan was already at the front of the field house with the other coaches discussing something over a stack of official looking papers.

Seonghwa could see his own coach looking over the papers carefully with an unreadable expression.

 _“Your coach sucks.”_ Seonghwa smiled at the memory.

Coach Jinyoung meant business, and he had no time for mistakes. Jinyoung was one of the best coaches in the country for 100- and 110-meter hurdles. He coached some of the top athletes that made careers off of their winnings and made it to the Olympics.

Seonghwa wanted to be like that. He wanted to win, and the only way to get there was with the help of his coach.

Seonghwa touched his chin gently, the cut had healed but recalled the feeling of Hongjoong’s cold fingers delicately pressing the Hello Kitty band-aid over the cut.

He wondered if Hongjoong knew just how much better he felt when he heard his name being called from the crowd. It had actually been such a shock to hear it that it had caused him to trip over the last hurdle, but for one glorious second, he found himself not caring.

Then he got scolded by Jinyoung and got slapped with extra training.

“Where’s Wooyoung?” Jongho asked, pulling Seonghwa out of his thoughts.

Seonghwa was about to answer, but Chan called the meeting to order. The coaches stepped back from the front of the room going to stand by their respective athlete groups.

Coach RM, Wooyoung’s coach, looked to the three of them seated on the mats and raised his eyebrows in question and mouthed, “Wooyoung?”

Seonghwa shrugged. He watched Mingi text Wooyoung for the thousandth time before he focused on Chan who had started talking.

“Okay everyone,” he said. “Today the standards for nationals were sent out to all the university teams. And you’ll hear this from the coaches, but the times got faster from last year… by a lot.”

A collective groan went around the room. A pit formed in Seonghwa’s stomach. Last year’s times had seemed impossible and Seonghwa had _barely_ made the cut. The only one in the room who had cleared the standard from last year was Mingi, who had set the university record in the process with one crazy jump that no one thought he could do.

That was of course before Mingi had injured himself.

“The good news is that some of us are close,” Chan continued with an optimistic look. “We might even have a shot at getting one of our relay teams there.”

Chan gave a stack of papers to Jeongin, a 200-meter runner, who stood up and handed one to each of the athletes.

“The coaches will go over them with you so… I guess that’s it for now.” Chan shrugged and the athletes began to pour over the paper with each other, many of them with looks of concern and disbelief evident on their faces.

Coach Jinyoung handed a paper to Seonghwa with a slight smile on his face. Seonghwa’s heart quickened as he searched for the 110-meter hurdles standard.

**_110-m hurdles (Men) -- under 15.00 s_ **

Seonghwa gasped. Mingi and Jongho suddenly crowded around Seonghwa to get a better look, even though they had their own papers.

“Holy shi—”

“Hyung you’re so close!”

Seonghwa looked to his coach who had a look of quiet pride on his face.

“Now it’s even more important to have a clean race.” He said with a wink before he patted Seonghwa on the shoulder and went to go talk to the other coaches.

Jongho looked over Mingi’s shoulder, flipping the paper over to look at the field events.

Suddenly, Mingi’s eyes blew wide and Jongho sucked in a breath before grabbing the paper out of Mingi’s hands, almost ripping it in half. 

“What? What is it?” Seonghwa asked, frantically searching the page.

“I – I made the standard.” Jongho said quietly. “Look.”

He pointed at the page and Seonghwa could see that Jongho’s current personal best throw was already a couple of meters ahead of the standard.

Seonghwa pulled the other in a hug and was then joined by Mingi, who wrapped his long arms around the both of them.

“I wish I could go with you guys.” Mingi said, sounding slightly choked up.

“Hyung you know I still have to throw that far in an official competition, right?” Jongho reminded him. Mingi squeezed his arms tighter and Jongho let out a squeak as he was held closer.

“Yeah I know, I’m just so happy for you guys.”

Seonghwa wondered if Mingi had seen the standard for pole vault. He couldn’t remember exactly, but he was fairly certain that Mingi had already cleared that height, at least, before his injury.

“Seonghwa,” Chan said suddenly, interrupting the trio. He stood in front of them with a worried look on his face.

The three of them shot up off the mats for fear of being scolded by Chan for sitting on them again, but Chan simply held his phone out to Seonghwa, who took it with hesitation.

He looked on the screen and saw the face of Minho, who was a friend of Chan’s and a middle blocker on the volleyball team.

“Seonghwa?” Minho asked over the screen. It was a face time call and from what he could see from the background, the other was in the dining hall.

“Yeah, Minho, what’s up?” Seonghwa asked, starting to feel worry pool in his stomach.

“You need to get over here.” Minho said in a rush, “Wooyoung’s getting into a fight with Seungcheol and –” Seonghwa heard a crash in the background, followed by shouting. “Oh my god, you need to get here fast.”

Minho ended the call and Seonghwa gave the phone back to Chan. Mingi sighed, “I guess we know where he is now.”

Jongho cracked his knuckles with a devilish smirk on his face. “Then let’s go save Wooyoung-hyung.”

_Yeosang_

Yeosang buzzed with excitement.

“I’m so excited,” he said, practically bouncing.

Yunho and Hongjoong both laughed at Yeosang, who was skipping happily through the dining hall. It was Friday, which meant one thing.

Fried chicken.

As soon as Yunho had gotten back to his dorm from the clinic, Yeosang dragged him, Hongjoong and San out the door and down to the dining hall.

It was the only thing that kept Yeosang going through the weeks of endless classes and the ever-growing feeling of failure as projects and test kept piling up.

Yeosang loved robotics, but sometimes he felt like the endless amount of work were killing his dreams of building great machines little by little until there was nothing left.

But right now, he didn’t have to think about that.

Yeosang turned to Hongjoong, a huge smile on his face, but felt it wane as he saw a very sad-looking San. 

Yeosang looked pointedly at Yunho who nodded in understanding and asked San about his latest Human-Kinetics lecture. Yeosang would have done it himself, but he wasn’t always the best at sparking encouragement and sometimes came off a little pricklier than he intended.

 _He'll feel better once he’s full._ He thought, trying to ease the worry pooling in his stomach.

“SAN!”

Yeosang whipped his head towards the voice, and felt the unease blossom in his gut. Seungcheol, San’s volleyball captain, was marching towards them with a look of pure anger. 

“Where have you been for the last two practices?” he snapped.

San looked like he was near tears, but Yeosang was surprised when San’s voice came out strong.

“It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business!” Seungcheol hissed. “I’m your captain! You can’t seriously expect to stay in the lineup as a wing spiker if you miss a practice for no reason.”

“I had a reason; I didn’t want to go.” San crossed his arms defiantly, but Yeosang noticed that his fingers were shaking.

Yeosang finally found his voice. “Leave him alone Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol ignored him stepped towards San, only to stumble as Hongjoong shoved him back, eyes deadly.

“If you know what’s good for you: _leave._ ”

Yeosang felt his skin prickle as others in the dining hall began to notice them, murmurs slowly rising to voices, as they tried to understand what was happening.

“You can’t be serious,” Seungcheol was getting angrier and pushed Hongjoong out of the way. Yeosang shrank behind Yunho and gripped his arm as Hongjoong straightened, enraged.

Others started gathering around them, some looking on in concern, others waiting in anticipation for the first punch to be thrown.

“San, I am beyond disappointed in you.” Seungcheol said lowly. “Own up to your fucking mistakes or don’t bother trying at all.”

He stepped back, turning away with his final words. “And if I were you, I wouldn’t show up to practice anymore.”

San didn’t get a word in. A flash of red flew by Yeosang’s vision and then suddenly, Seungcheol was on the ground, nursing a split lip.

“Wooyoung!” San cried out. “What are you doing?”

Wooyoung clearly didn’t hear San. The crowd of students surrounding them suddenly were way more interested in the fight rather than getting help. Yeosang shrank back further and tried to get to the door.

Wooyoung tried to take another swing at Seungcheol, but Seungcheol got up quicker than expected and returned a swift fist to Wooyoung’s nose.

Yeosang gasped as blood began to run down Wooyoung’s chin, he wiped it with his sleeve before San tried to step in between the two.

“Stop it you guys!” He shouted, but his voice was lost to the crowd. Hongjoong made a move to push Seungcheol back, but then he was shoved to the ground as bystanders tried to get Wooyoung to take another shot at Seungcheol.

Hongjoong cried out in pain as he landed on his wrist hard. Yunho and Yeosang quickly helped him up and pulled him to the back of the crowd as Wooyoung and Seungcheol clawed at each other with San trying desperately to intervene.

“Are you okay?” Yunho asked. Hongjoong was holding his wrist with a pained look on his face. He tried to flex it and grunted in pain.

“I don’t know.” He looked back to San and Wooyoung, who were now in the middle of a mosh pit of students. “We have to get some help –”

He cut off and Yeosang looked over as a very familiar brunette started pushing his way through the crowd with two others trailing behind him.

Yeosang almost couldn’t believe it.

“Jongho?”

_Jongho_

When Jongho pushed through the doors of the dining hall, he was greeted by Minho who simply pointed to the center of a large crowd of students. Wooyoung and some other guy were beating the shit out of each other.

Mingi and Seonghwa stood in shock, but Jongho started forward and pushed his way through, managing to get through the crowd without knocking anyone over.

When he got to Wooyoung and the other guy, he placed one hand on each of their shoulders and pulled them apart viciously.

He held his grip on their shoulders as Seonghwa and Mingi started to disperse the disappointed crowd.

“Oh, shut the fuck up and go home!” Mingi yelled at a couple of guys who started squawking at Jongho for breaking up the fight.

Wooyoung tried to pry Jongho’s hand off his shoulder, but Jongho tightened his grip.

“Jongho,” Wooyoung growled, “this is not your fight.”

Jongho rolled his eyes, taking in the blood on Wooyoung’s face, dripping on his already red hoodie, and the bruises forming along his cheek.

“This was never _your_ fight.” The guy in Jongho’s other hand sneered. “Stay out of other people’s business.”

“Shut the fuck up you piece of –” Jongho shook Wooyoung to make him stop talking. Both guys tried to pry Jongho’s hands off their shoulders, but it was a futile effort.

“Seungcheol, leave it alone.” A voice sounded from a guy with a white streak in his black hair.

Seungcheol struggled in Jongho’s grip as he stepped back, sending one last glare at the guy. Jongho let go of his shoulder and he turned without another word, heading out the door.

The room collectively let out a breath as Seonghwa and Mingi crowded around Wooyoung and were joined by four others.

“Jongho?”

Jongho locked eyes with beautiful brown ones and looked to the face that had been on his mind since the track meet.

“Yeosang-ssi? What are you doing here?”

He chuckled lightly. “San and Hongjoong got into a bit of a fight and Wooyoung helped them out.”

Seonghwa shoved tissues into Wooyoung’s nostrils, and Wooyoung let out a choking noise as he tilted his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I can’t believe you did that.” Seonghwa scolded the younger. “What were you thinking?”

Wooyoung burbled nonsense and Seonghwa rolled his eyes, pinching Wooyoung’s nose harder.

“It’s my fault,” said the guy with the white streak in his hair.

Yeosang quickly cut him off. “It’s fine San, it’s not your fault that your captain in emotionally volatile right now.”

“Yea id’s fine Dan.” Wooyoung said. Seonghwa smacked the back of his head.

“Stop talking, your nose might be broken.”

“-top hidding meh! Id hurds!”

Jongho looked around the rest of the group. He recognized them from the track meet, a guy with bright red hair and an unfairly tall guy who reminded Jongho of a large (but friendly) puppy.

“I’m Jongho.” He said, introducing himself. Seonghwa and Mingi finally stepped back from Wooyoung and let him breathe a little before standing next to Jongho.

“Oh, Yunho! I didn’t think I’d see you again today!” Mingi said excited, his smile stretching wide, completely forgetting about the whines of pain coming from Wooyoung in the background.

Yunho (the tall guy) smiled and reached out his hand to shake Jongho’s. The red-haired guy repeated the same motion.

“I’m Hongjoong.” He said, holding his wrist limply with his other hand. 

Seonghwa made a choking noise.

“H- Hongjoong?”

Hongjoong waved with his non-injured hand. “Hey.”

Seonghwa gaped slightly before looking down to Hongjoong’s wrist.

“You’re hurt.” He said, reaching out to the other.

“Hey hyung,” Jongho said, interrupting Seonghwa’s movements, he mentally filed away Seonghwa’s flustered expression and promised himself to ask about it later. “We still have ice packs and bandages in our dorm room from Mingi’s injury.”

Seonghwa nodded, “You’re right.”

Jongho almost laughed at how quickly he grabbed Wooyoung and Hongjoong, who both let out cries of protest as Seonghwa steered them out the door and towards to Mingi and Jongho’s room. He would have to ask about Seonghwa about Hongjoong later.

Mingi, Yunho, San, Yeosang and Jongho all followed like little ducklings.

Yeosang slowed to walk beside Jongho and he felt his heart quicken. He watched the other brush golden bangs out of his face and Jongho tried to reel in his thoughts about running his own hands through the strands

He noticed Yeosang also had a birthmark on the side of his face, next to his eye. He suddenly wondered what it would feel like to put his lips to the other’s skin and…

“Thanks for helping San out.” Yeosang’s words cut Jongho’s mind off abruptly.

“It’s no problem.” He said, trying to hide the slight stutter in his words. His face burned. Yeosang had already managed to reduce Jongho to a puddle of goo with nothing but a few conversations between them.

Yeosang knocked his shoulder against Jongho’s. “Seriously. It’s a good thing you’re so strong. I don’t think any of us could have stopped them.”

“Y-yeah. It sure is good that I’m so strong.”

Yeosang gave him a rather unimpressed look, but a glint of humor shone in his eyes that made Jongho smile at the him anyways.

“Jongho!” Seonghwa called out. Jongho hadn’t even noticed that they had reached his dorm room. He quickly rifled through his pockets for his keys and tossed them to Mingi who caught them opened the door, gesturing everyone in. 

It was a bit chaotic, but they managed. Seonghwa quickly shut the door and shoved both Wooyoung and Hongjoong on Jongho’s bed and went into the bathroom to look for the bandages.

Mingi went to their tiny fridge, which was filled with ice cream and protein shakes. Typical for student athletes. He pushed out the pints of ice cream and pulled out several ice packs, handing them to Yunho.

“Here you guys go.” He said passing one to Hongjoong and one to Wooyoung.

“Thanks.” Hongjoong said, smiling. Jongho understood suddenly why Seonghwa was so flustered earlier.

“Danks.” Wooyoung mumbled, and Yunho bit his lip trying to hold back a smile at the other’s plugged up voice.

“It’s no problem.”

Mingi didn’t let Wooyoung off the hook so easily.

“I can’t believe you _punched_ someone Woo!” Mingi howled with laughter. “Maybe Chan will finally take your threats seriously now!”

Jongho heard a snort from beside him and saw Yeosang cover his hand with his mouth and his shoulders shake. When he noticed Jongho staring, he narrowed his eyes and tried to look menacing, but Jongho could tell that he wasn’t serious.

“Alright,” Seonghwa said, coming into the room with an armful of bandages. He walked past Mingi and flicked his forehead. “Stop laughing, you hyena.”

Migni rubbed the red spot on the center of his forehead, glaring at Seonghwa, who ignored him and crouched in front of Wooyoung, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. He tilted Wooyoung’s face forward and back.

He sighed and started delicately wiping the blood away with a damp washcloth. “Well, it’s not broken Woo, you’re very lucky.”

Wooyoung nodded, but his eyes looking at San, who was sitting against the door with his legs pulled up protectively. Like he was shielding himself from them. Jongho watched San’s lip tremble as he tried to hold back tears.

“I’m really sorry for dragging you guys into this!” he said wetly and buried his face in his arms, “I’m sorry.”

Jongho felt his own eyes well up at the sight. Hongjoong stood up, crossing the room and kneeled in front of San. He wraped his arms around him and let the other bury his face in his shoulder, muffling his tears.

“It’s okay San,” Hongjoong whispered, rubbing the other’s back. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” 

He let the other cling to him until the tears had stopped. When San finally lifted his head and nodded to Hongjoong, Hongjoong stood up and pulled the other with him. He pushed San down beside Wooyoung and sat on his other side.

San leaned his head on Hongjoong’s shoulder, letting the tension out of his spine like a cat resting in the sun.

“Wooyoung.” Jongho said as the other’s nose started dripping again. He didn’t even notice. Seonghwa stuffed more tissues up his nostrils, and Wooyoung cried out in pain.

“Deonghwa! DHAT HURDS!” his eyes started leaking tears as Seonghwa apologized, but with a sly smile on his face.

Tension seeped out of the room at Wooyoung’s antics. He pouted at Seonghwa and waved off his hand when Seonghwa tried to put it on his shoulder. Jongho was sure that Wooyoung kept up the charade as San began to smile and laugh along with the rest of the room.

Jongho smiled as he sat on the edge of Mingi’s bed with Yeosang. He tried not to get flustered when he felt Yeosang lean back slightly against his shoulder, feeling the warmth seep into his clothing. He tried to focus on Seonghwa, who was now trying to get Wooyoung to take the tissues out so he could replace them.

But his heart won out and he looked down to Yeosang, who was now resting his head on Jongho’s shoulder. The other suddenly met his eyes and Jongho felt the room shrink as he quickly looked away.

 _Boy am I screwed…_ he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe... ignore the second note if it shows up. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Twitter: @theUpsidee


	5. Some kind of Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another update! I kinda edited this pretty quick so, sorry if there are any mistakes!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's left a comment or kudos, it really means a lot!!! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

_Seonghwa_

Seonghwa could hardly believe that Wooyoung had gotten into a fight. It was almost funny. Wooyoung would tease and push until others wanted to hit him, but he was never the one to throw the first punch.

Wooyoung laid sprawled on Jongho’s bed with an ice pack over his nose, which had finally stopped bleeding. San sat on the edge of the bed wringing his fingers like he was trying to take his feelings out on his hands. Seonghwa watched as Wooyoung very slowly, reached out his own hand and grabbed San’s fingers making him look over at the other.

Wooyoung smiled, though it was hard to see under the ice pack. 

Seonghwa had sent the other four out to look for more ice. Wooyoung’s cheek had begun to swell and his nose was covered in purple bruises that were now fading into green.

At least Hongjoong’s wrist was slightly better.

“Is it broken?” Hongjoong asked as Seonghwa tried to move it slowly. Seonghwa crouched in front of Hongjoong, who was sitting on Mingi’s bed, gently holding his wrist.

“Does that hurt?” He moved Hongjoong’s hand, pushing it back slightly and putting pressure on the wrist joint.

Hongjoong shook his head. “No.”

“Then it’s not broken.”

Hongjoong smiled and Seonghwa ducked his head, trying to keep his cheeks from flaming. He didn’t know if Hongjoong knew, but he was absolutely stunning. Seonghwa hadn’t noticed it when they had first met, (for obvious reasons) but the redhead was starting to make appearances in Seonghwa’s thoughts, when he wasn’t there in the first place.

It was both surprising and unusual, but for some reason, Seonghwa couldn’t find it in himself to care about what it meant.

He tried to keep his hands gentle as he wrapped Hongjoong’s wrist in a bandage. Hongjoong’s fingers brushed against the inside of Seonghwa’s wrist, making Seonghwa jump each time it happened.

“Sorry.” Hongjoong said after hundredth time it happened.

“It’s okay.” Seonghwa finished wrapping the wrist and secured it with three pieces of medical tape.

Hongjoong examined the bandage.

“Did I do something wrong?” Seonghwa quipped, making the other smile.

“You know, I wouldn’t know if you did something wrong.” Hongjoong lowered his eyes. “I just hope it heals soon.”

Seonghwa tried to sound encouraging. “It will, just give it some time.”

Hongjoong hummed. “I don’t think I’ll last long if I can’t play the piano but at least I can still hold a paintbrush.”

He moved the opposite hand in a painting motion, looking very intense, drawing his eyebrows up in fake concentration.

Seonghwa smiled. “Maybe if music fails, you can join a theater troupe.”

Hongjoong giggled and Seonghwa felt his lips lift slightly.

Wooyoung groaned behind him.

He turned to face Wooyoung, who was now sitting up. The ice pack had melted and Wooyoung’s hair was soaked. It stuck up in tufts which and with the bruises under his eyes, made him look like a very angry (but adorable) raccoon. 

Hongjoong stifled a laugh and Wooyoung glared.

“When are Mingi and Jongho coming back?”

Seonghwa checked his messages. The last message came from Jongho 20 minutes ago, saying that they’d be back soon, but it surely wouldn’t take this long to get ice from the dining hall, even this late in the day. 

He was starting to feel worried when the door slammed open, with Jongho and Yeosang carrying two large bags of ice. Mingi and Yunho trailed behind carrying another bag, along with a shopping bag full of ice cream.

Seonghwa balked at them. “Guys, that’s way too much ice! What are we going to do with it all?”

Mingi shrugged, but Jongho gave an actual answer. “We didn’t know how much Wooyoung would need, and besides, we can use the extra ice for ice baths.”

Seonghwa opened his mouth, but Hongjoong interrupted him and grabbed the shopping bag from Yunho.

“What flavours did you get?”

An hour later and full of ice cream, they all exchanged numbers at Wooyoung’s insistence. Seonghwa and San lead the other to his own dorm room to rest more. (He had fallen asleep with the spoon still in his mouth, leaning on San who smiled down and gently took the spoon and placed it in Wooyoung’s empty cup.)

Seonghwa said goodnight as the others left for their own rooms. Wooyoung stayed sound asleep in his bed, even as San brushed his hair back and placed a kiss on his forehead.

Hongjoong stared. “I didn’t know they were that close.” He whispered to Seonghwa, eyes wide.

Jongho, Mingi, Yunho and Yeosang had left already. Hongjoong stayed behind to make sure that San got back to his room alright, but Seonghwa hoped secretly that it was because he wanted to stay a little longer with him.

“What? Do you want me to kiss your wrist to make it better?” Seonghwa looked to San, purposefully not looking at Hongjoong, who stiffened beside him.

“N-no!” He sputtered. Seonghwa grinned and turned his head to gaze at Hongjoong’s blushing face.

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

“Yep! 100 percent! We’re all good here!” He grabbed San’s wrist and dragged him out the door. “Let’s go San. Thanks for your help Seonghwa! See you later!”

The door slammed and Seonghwa laughed out loud.

Wooyoung shot up. “Wh- what’s going on?”

Seonghwa laughed again, patting the other on the head. “Nothing, go back to sleep, you have vocal class at 8:30 tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Seonghwa changed into his sleep clothes and turned out the lights, watching his phone light up with new notifications before he flipped it over and fell into a dream filled sleep of bright smiles and red hair.

_Yunho_

Yunho and Yeosang sat next to each other in their physics lecture. Yeosang was taking diligent notes but Yunho could barely pay attention. His notebook was completely blank despite there only being 15 minutes left in the class.

He kept thinking about the messages on his phone from Mingi. About a week after Wooyoung had gotten into his fight, Yunho was finally going to learn how to pole-vault.

After the fight, Yunho found himself with four new friends and a group chat that would never shut up. He had started eating lunch with Mingi and Jongho, which Yunho thought would have bothered Yeosang, but he had warmed up to the others surprisingly quick.

San and Wooyoung were almost inseparable now, with Wooyoung often waiting for San after his lectures, despite Wooyoung’s music classes being in another building.

Wooyoung’s excuse was that he wanted to make sure that Seungcheol wouldn’t show his face around San ever again.

Yeosang nudged his shoulder. “Dude, did you take _any_ notes?”

“Huh?” Yunho responded, completely dumbfounded.

Yeosang rolled his eyes and gestured to the board which was now covered in notes about the quantum mechanics and structural properties of the carbon atom. The professor was tapping through the last few slides of his PowerPoint and Yunho was hit with the sudden realization that he had missed the entire class.

“C-can I borrow your notes?” he asked Yeosang, smiling sheepishly.

Yeosang smirked. “Only if you tell me why your head’s in the clouds.”

Yunho shook his head, trying to focus on the last of the lecture, which to his disappointment, did not summarize what had happened for the last hour and a half.

He let out a breath, running his hand through his hair and sank down in his chair. Yeosang chuckled beside him and patted his shoulder.

“Would this have to do with the date you have with Mingi tonight?”

Yunho shot up. “How do you know about that?”

“Jongho told me.”

Yunho huffed as the professor finished talking. He tuned out most of it, but caught the reminder for the robotics and engineering fair at the end of the semester.

“Grand prize is $5000 and a summer internship with the top tech institutes in the country!” The physics professor practically sang. “It would be a great opportunity to show what you know in the second year of your program.”

When the professor was met with nothing but silence, he tacked on an additional incentive.

“Those who participate will get a 10% bonus at the end of the semester, and if you come in the top three, I’ll double it.”

Murmurs sounded around the lecture room. Yunho raised his eyebrows, maybe it would be worth trying.

He turned to Yeosang. “Are you going to do it?”

Yeosang bit his lip in thought. “Maybe. What about you?”

“Maybe.”

As the room emptied out, Yunho felt his phone vibrate with a text message. Yeosang smiled knowingly as he walked ahead of Yunho.

“I’ll leave you to your _date_ now.” He said, sly as a fox.

“I-it’s not a date!” Yunho’s face flamed.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes!” _NO!_

Yeosang left for his dorm, cackling, leaving Yunho alone in the hallway. He finally checked his messages and felt his heart quicken at Mingi’s name.

**_New Message – 16:01_ **

**Mingi [16:01]**

All set for today?

**Yunho [16:12]**

Yep! I’ll meet you at the field house?

**Mingi [16:13]**

Can’t wait :)

He quickly followed Yeosang to their dorm building. When he got to his room, he half expected to see San there, but the room was empty. He changed out of his jeans and grabbed a pair of sweatpants that would allow him to move more freely.

As he pulled the clothing out of his drawer, a piece of paper fell out and fluttered to the ground. Yunho picked it up and flipped it over.

He felt his heart stopped as he realized it was a photo.

It was from the last dance competition he was in. Yunho stood on a stage lit up with fluorescent lights decked out strappy black clothing and topped off with a baseball cap. His limbs twictched as he remembered the movements that used to flow through him to the beat of music. 

And his teammates… the ones who he used to laugh with, the ones who’d always be there when he needed it and the ones… who…

Yunho dropped the photo like it had burned him.

His breaths came in quickly, as he crouched down to pick it up again. He hadn’t seen the photo in a while, his mom had given it to him before the school year had started.

_Maybe it will inspire you, Yunho. Don’t you remember how happy you were onstage?_

_No. I don’t._

Yunho shoved it in his drawer, slamming it shut, not caring if the photo got crumpled. He leaned his forehead against the wood and closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing.

He faintly registered the sound of his phone ringing.

With shaking fingers, he answered it without looking who had called.

“Hello?”

“Y-Yunho?” Yunho bit back a curse. It was Mingi. “Are you coming? It’s almost 5.”

Yunho took a breath and tried to sound peppy. “Yeah sorry! I got caught up in class.”

Mingi went quiet for a second. “Are you okay?”

“I’m f-fine, why do you ask?”

“We can do this another day if –”

Yunho interrupted Mingi, smiling slightly at the other’s ramblings. “No, we’re doing this today. I’ll be there soon.”

“O-Okay, see you soon?”

Yunho laughed lightly. “Yeah, see you soon.”

He ran a hand through his hair as he lowered the phone, trying to quiet the memories threatening to resurface.

Yunho slipped on the sweatpants and shoved a sweater in his backpack. Grabbing his keys, he took one more deep breath as he locked the door behind him and shut in the thoughts that only came up in his nightmares.

\-------

The field house was a large indoor training building for the track and field team. From the outside it looked like a large garage, but from the inside it looked like a high-level training center. There were weight machines, stationary bikes, throwing nets and basically anything a track and field athlete could think of.

Yunho walked into the building, shivering from the cold outside. He was surprised to find it empty, save for Mingi who was at the other end of the building.

He slowly walked to the pole-vaulting area, staying quiet not to disturb Mingi. The other was doing run ups to the mats with the pole in his hands, but not actually jumping up and vaulting over.

Mingi had told Yunho that he’d been going to practices for the last week, but had yet to actually vault over the bar. Yunho wasn’t an expert in pole-vaulting but he could guess that it was probably something that took a long time to get right.

Part of him wondered how he would actually learn how to pole-vault in one (not?) date.

Mingi finally looked over and locked eyes with Yunho, sending a buzz down his spine. Yunho felt his face heat up and he walked towards Mingi.

Mingi apparently felt no cold, because he wore a sleeveless shirt exposing tanned, muscular arms that Yunho had trouble keeping his eyes off.

“H-Hey.” Yunho said, lifting his hand and waving.

Mingi smirked. “Hey, you.” He held up a pole, “Are you ready to fly?”

Despite being out on injury for three months, Mingi was a very good teacher. They started out with short runs up the length of the field house, and then Mingi taught him how to position his hands on the pole, which resulted in Mingi covering Yunho’s hands with his own several times, but Yunho wasn’t complaining.

“You have to move your hips like this.” Mingi and Yunho were hanging down from chip up bars, as Mingi swung his hips upwards and pointed his legs towards the sky. “That’s how you get your feet over the bar.”

“I don’t think I have enough ab strength for that.” Yunho muttered.

“Sure you do!” Mingi dropped down from the bar and walked behind Yunho. “Is it okay if I touch you?” he asked, hands hovering over Yunho’s hips.

Yunho tried not to sound flustered. “It’s o-okay.”

Mingi placed his hands on Yunho and pushed him back and forth, swinging Yunho’s body like a pendulum.

“Like that.” Mingi stepped back, dropping his hands. Yunho felt the impression of his fingers low on his hips. He bit his lip, trying to keep his face from going tomato red, but he was pretty sure that it didn’t work.

He sighed and let go of the bar, falling to the ground. He almost stumbled, but a pair of strong arms caught him around the waist.

“All good?” Mingi questioned, helping Yunho straighten himself.

Yunho nodded, as Mingi released the hold on his waist. Yunho suddenly missed the warmth.

He followed Mingi as he picked up the poles and handed one to Yunho.

“We’re going to run with the pole now.” Mingi said, lifting up the pole like a trophy.

Yunho giggled at the other. “How do we do that?”

Mingi began showing Yunho how it was done. Yunho was surprised to find that the idea of pole vaulting was generating enough speed so that by the time the pole was (basically) stabbed into the box at the base of the mats, the generated speed would put force on the pole, bending it, and launching the person in a general arc trajectory.

His engineering brain was practically buzzing as he looked down at the pole, wondering what kind of materials needed to be used to make something that could hold someone’s entire body weight without breaking.

Well, without it breaking often.

Yunho ran alongside Mingi, at first running with the pole dragging on the ground in front of him and then slowly lifting it up until he ran with it raised to his hip, with the end of the pole high in the air.

“You’re a really quick learner, Yunho!” Mingi exclaimed as they took a small break.

Yunho shrugged, grabbing his waterbottle. “I just have a good teacher.”

Mingi blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks.” A beat of silence, then, “Dr. Jung said you used to be a dancer?”

Yunho choked on his water. He coughed several times to clear his throat. Mingi made a move towards him, but Yunho waved him back.

“Y-yeah.” He coughed again. “I was until I started university.”

“Why did you stop?”

 _Wow okay,_ Yunho thought, _right for the hard questions._

He shrugged. “I just kinda –” Yunho waved his hands around as if that explained everything. “Yeah.”

Mingi raised an eyebrow in question, but thankfully let the subject drop. They then started to do runs up towards the mats, practicing placing the pole into the box, but letting go of the pole at the last second and just running forward.

After Yunho’s fourth time doing it, Mingi suggested he try actually jumping. Yunho clutched the pole closer to his body, like it could protect him from what came next.

Mingi laughed, standing from where he was sitting on the mats and walked up to Yunho. “I had the same reaction when I first started.” He said, gently loosening Yunho’s grip on the pole. He let Mingi move his hands into position on the pole before stepping back.

“You’re ready,” he leveled his eyes at Yunho, “We’ll go slow and I’ll help you out.”

Mingi jogged back over to the mats, jumping up and standing slightly off-centre. He spread his arms wide. “Just pretend you’re running into my arms.”

Yunho choked, but thankfully Mingi didn’t notice. “You probably won’t get more than a meter off the ground,” he explained, “You’re planting the pole and then swinging your hips forward, like we practiced on the chin up bars.”

He pointed at Yunho. “Your body moves, but the pole stays in the same spot.”

“Alright.” Yunho huffed, trying to quell his nerves. Suddenly the runway seemed a lot longer than he originally thought.

He lifted the pole up, leveled his hands beside his hip and started to run. It wasn’t quite as fast as Mingi was going earlier, but it was definitely faster than what Yunho was comfortable with. He lowered the pole into the box, but when he was supposed to tighten his grip and jump, an image of Mingi lying broken on the track zipped through his mind and he let go.

He stumbled into the mats. “Sorry.”

Mingi looked down at him and picked up the pole that had landed beside him. “It’s okay. Try again.”

Yunho walked back to the end of the runway and tried again. Mingi waved his hands and jumped up and down like a starfish, yelling encouragements at Yunho.

“I believe in you, Yunho!”

Yunho started running. This run, when it was time to jump, a memory that he tried so hard to forget lit up his mind.

_It was dark backstage, no one could see them behind the curtains as Yunho tried to run through the moves in his head._

_He felt warmth as two arms snaked around his waist and pulled him back._

_A chin rested on his shoulder and Yunho felt lips press his cheek._

_“I believe in you, Yunho.”_

Yunho let go.

Mingi caught the pole out of the air before it fell onto Yunho’s head. He crouched down beside Yunho, who was now lying spread eagle on the mats.

“I’m serious when I say pretend that you’re running into my arms.” He said, handing the pole back to Yunho. “I’ll catch you; I promise.”

Yunho nodded taking a shaky breath. Mingi locked eyes with him and Yunho’s heart stuttered.

“Just focus on me, and jump.”

He walked back to the end of the runway, and looked to Mingi.

_Just focus on me and jump._

Yunho adjusted his grip on the pole and started running. He kept his mind blank, only thinking about what was at the end of the track.

 _Mingi_.

Yunho lifted the pole to plant it in the box.

_Just focus on me and jump._

He felt the pole stop moving.

_Just focus on me and jump._

He jumped.

Yunho didn’t go very high, but gasped at the feeling of being lifted off the ground. Swinging his hips forward to gather more momentum, he landed on the mats and stumbled into Mingi’s outstretched arms as he let go of the pole.

“That was great, Yunho!” He said into Yunho’s ear, still hugging him around the torso. Yunho resisted the urge to wrap his arms around Mingi’s waist and turned to face him.

The words in his mouth died as he realized how close they were. He could see his reflection in Mingi’s glasses, but looked past the glass to meet Mingi’s eyes.

Yunho lowered his eyes at the intensity of the gaze, landing on Mingi’s lips. They looked soft and plush, like a pillow. He wondered if they felt as soft as they looked.

He didn’t realize that he was leaning forward until Mingi cleared his throat.

Instantly Yunho’s eyes shot up. “S-sorry.” He squeaked, feeling his cheeks burn. 

Mingi quirked an eyebrow. “It’s okay.”

Mingi released his hold on Yunho, and Yunho stepped back, giving himself room to breathe. He watched Mingi pick up the pole and walk to the start of the runway.

“I’ll jump and then we should probably get going.” Mingi explained. Yunho slid off the mats and stood beside them, so that he could watch Mingi from the side.

“Okay.” He said, voice coming out surprisingly solid.

Mingi smiled. Yunho shivered as Mingi’s smiling and bubbly demeanor suddenly dropped off and was replaced by sparking energy.

Quick as lightning, Mingi raced down the track and planted the pole into the box. Yunho only heard the sound of the carbon fibre pole meeting the cement box, before Mingi was high in the air.

If Yunho was jumping, Mingi was flying.

Mingi got at least 3 meters in the air before gravity brought him back down onto the mats. Yunho stood in stunned silence as Mingi simply walked off, dragging the pole behind him. He turned when he noticed Yunho wasn’t following.

“Are you –”

“Holy shit, Mingi!” Yunho exclaimed. “How do you do that?”

Mingi laughed as Yunho finally started moving again. “If you want to know, we’ll have to do this again.”

They put away the poles and Yunho helped Mingi place covers over the mats and turn off all the lights. As Mingi was locking the doors to the field house, Yunho felt a shot of courage.

“Mingi?”

“Hmm?” The other turned, and Yunho smiled as he placed a kiss on Mingi’s cheek.

“This was fun.” Yunho said, reveling in the way Mingi turned tomato red. “Thank you.”

“N-no problem.” He stuttered. 

They parted ways with the promise to text each other later and Yunho couldn’t deny the warmth in his heart as he thought about the next time he would see Mingi again. He checked his messages while he walked back to his dorm building, seeing a text from Yeosang.

**_New Message – 18:56_ **

**Sangie [18:56]**

So?

**Yunho [19:04]**

shut up

_Wooyoung_

Wooyoung sat at his desk with his laptop out, refreshing the website page he had been on for the last twenty minutes.

Seonghwa sighed from where he was lying on his bed. Wooyoung looked over and met the raised eyebrows of Seonghwa over his phone screen.

“Stop refreshing it Woo, Chan will tell us tomorrow.”

Wooyoung grumbled as Seonghwa resumed whatever he was doing on his phone. Probably texting Hongjoong.

He refreshed the page again.

Wooyoung missed the announcement for the standards, but Seonghwa told him what they were when he was icing his nose. He didn’t feel bad about getting into the fight. Seungcheol deserved it for talking to San like that.

The bruising on his nose was fading, but the ache was still there. Sometimes when he sneezed, he would see blood in the tissue, but Seonghwa assured him that it wasn’t broken. Wooyoung didn’t know how much he trusted a third-year med-student who had yet to begin his residency. The only diagnosis he could make was from his books, but it was the best Wooyoung could do.

He refreshed the page again.

 _11.50… I have to get under 11.50,_ he thought.

Wooyoung felt sick to his stomach. 11.50 seconds in a 100 m race was blazing fast. He would have to get a lot faster if he wanted to win the Top Athlete Award. It wasn’t even about winning medals, he just had to beat out his other teammates.

It was a shitty position to be in. As it stood, Wooyoung’s PB was only 11.89, which was fast… sort of. In terms of the 100 m, making up a 0.39 difference was almost 20 meters.

He sighed; it would take a miracle for him to get under 11.50 seconds.

Today, they were announcing the final date and venue for the nationals, basically starting the clock on Wooyoung’s time left in the track and field club.

He nearly teared up at the thought of being without his friends.

_I have to go to nationals. I have to win that fucking award._

He refreshed the page again. This time, a new article had been posted. Wooyoung held his breath as he clicked on it, skimming through the text.

_This year’s National University Track and Field competition will be held at …._

Seonghwa stood up behind him and pointed at the screen. “Hey, that looks familiar.”

The photo underneath the text was their university’s track. Wooyoung grimaced. Even if he didn’t make it to nationals, he’d still have to watch it happen right in front of him.

“Home turf advantage I guess.”

Seonghwa shrugged. “When is it?”

Wooyoung scrolled through a little more. “April third.”

“Well that’s extra lucky.”

Wooyoung huffed a laugh. Seonghwa was sure to win his event this year, he didn’t need any luck. It was Wooyoung who needed it.

He leaned back in his chair. He only had six months before his fate was sealed.

“I can hear your thoughts, Woo.”

“No, you can’t.”

Seonghwa placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine Wooyoung. I know you can do it.”

Wooyoung placed a hand over Seonghwa’s. “Thanks, hyung.”

_Six months… can I really do it?_

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! I promise we'll learn more about Yunho's past in future chapters! 
> 
> P.S. Ignore the second note if it comes up. 
> 
> Twitter: @theUpsidee


	6. King and Lionheart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for not giving up on this story.

_Seonghwa_

Wooyoung leaned heavily on Seonghwa as they climbed the stairs up to their dorm room, complaining loudly with each step.

“I can’t believe we actually survived that!” He exclaimed.

Seonghwa nodded, too tired to speak. Behind them, Jongho and Mingi were in similar states, both of them leaning on each other. It had been a hard two weeks of training. As the weather got colder, the runs started to get longer, and there was more weight lifting in the field house. 

“At least this week is a rest week.” Mingi sighed.

Tonight, had been the pinnacle of difficult practices for both the track runners and field athletes.

While Seonghwa and Wooyoung got hit with 6 x 600 m (with very little break between), Mingi and Jongho had a date with the medicine balls and weight machines. With the first qualifying meet next weekend, it was the last of the hard training before it got a little easier.

Well, as easy as track and field gets.

“Hyung which room are we doing the ice bath in?” Jongho asked.

“Mine and Woo’s room.” Seonghwa replied.

Ice baths were a bit of a tradition that started during summer training. Although they didn’t do them often, when practice left them barely standing, it was more of a necessity than a tradition.

Supposedly it helped with sore muscles.

_Supposedly._

Over the last week, Seonghwa and Wooyoung had been gathering ice bags from the campus convenience store promising the staff that it wasn’t for a party.

It was for pain.

Along with the ice Wooyoung had saved from his periodic icings for his nose, they had a pretty good haul.

When they got to Wooyoung and Seonghwa’s dorm, Jongho began to draw a bath of cold water and Wooyoung and Mingi pulled the many ice bags out of the fridge. Seonghwa handed them to Jongho once there was enough water in the tub.

As they poured the ice into the tub, some water splashed onto Seonghwa’s socks. He jumped and let out a yelp.

“Jongho that’s way too cold!”

Jongho laughed deviously. “It’s gotta be that cold or it’s not going to work. Besides the ice will melt too quickly if it’s any warmer.”

He turned to Mingi and Wooyoung who were standing in the doorway. “So,” everyone tensed, “who’s going first?”

\--------

“Hyung, it’s not that bad. Just get in!”

“Wooyoung if you don’t shut up…”

“It’s only five minutes!”

Seonghwa stood in the bathroom in nothing but bathing suit trunks, trying to convince himself that this was a good idea. Wooyoung, Jongho and Mingi had already gone in and sat on the floor, watching. They had changed into dry clothes and wrapped themselves in the blankets from Seonghwa’s and Wooyoung’s beds. Mingi had even put on a hat, which did nothing to convince Seonghwa to get in the tub.

Jongho glared, though being wrapped in a fluffy bed cover took the edge off his demeanor. “JUST GET IN!”

Seonghwa took a deep breath and decided just to go for it. He stuck both feet in and sat down quickly, trying not to cry out at the cold.

“Wooyoung, start the timer!” he gritted through his teeth.

Wooyoung let out a whoop of triumph. “You got this hyung!”

Seonghwa tried to clear his mind of the cold. He tried to focus on Mingi and Jongho’s conversation about the best ice cream flavour, but it didn’t work very well.

He switched his focus and tried to think about his practices this week. His form was improving, especially over the final hurdles, but he still couldn’t make it without hitting any of them.

_How do you stay out in the cold this late?_

Seonghwa huffed a laugh at the little voice in his head.

Hongjoong had been sitting with him at every late-night practice, where Seonghwa would usually be completely alone. Seonghwa had even started waiting for Hongjoong when he was finishing something in the studio so that they could walk to the stadium together.

It was something completely new, but Seonghwa wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Having Hongjoong around was like having portable sunshine around.

A sarcastic, prickly, stubborn sunshine that feel asleep in the strangest places, but sunshine nonetheless.

He thought about his late-night practice last night, forcing himself to think about anything other than the cold seeping into his veins. 

_Seonghwa looked down at Hongjoong’s sleeping face that was squished against his track bag. He felt his heart stutter as the other breathed gently and evenly._

_Completely asleep._

_Smiling to himself, Seonghwa took off his warm-up jacket and tucked it around the other. He stood up quickly when Hongjoong stirred slightly, but immediately laughed in delight as the other simply pulled the jacket tighter around himself, curling his face into the collar._

Seonghwa almost felt bad for having to wake him up, but he couldn’t let the other spend the night out in the cold.

“What are you smiling about?”

Seonghwa looked up sharply to Wooyoung who was grinning like the cat who got the cream.

“N-nothing.” Seonghwa shivered in the cold water.

Jongho caught on quickly. “This wouldn’t have to do with a certain red-head, would it?”

Seonghwa opened his mouth, but then Wooyoung’s phone began to ring, signifying that Seonghwa could get out of the bath.

The conversation about Hongjoong was quickly forgotten as Seonghwa practically dove out of the bath for the warm towels and blankets.

When he had changed into dry clothes, all of them piled onto Seonghwa’s bed to of watch a movie.

Around 20 minutes into the film, Seonghwa was the only one awake.

He quietly put away his laptop and towels they had left out on the floor. When he finished, he turned out the lights and crawled onto Wooyoung’s bed, pulling the blanket tighter around his body. As he was fading into sleep, his phone lit up with a text message.

**_New Message – 01:02_ **

**Hongjoong [01:02]**

I know you’re probably asleep

right now, but I just finished this

and I thought you should see it.

_[Attachment: 1 image]_

Squinting at the screen, Seonghwa clicked on the picture and felt his breath hitch as he looked at his phone.

It was a drawing done by Hongjoong in nothing but pencil. Seonghwa stared, his heart quickening at the sight. His eyes traced the figure in the drawing, following the dark hair down to the track spikes on their feet as the figure jumped over a hurdle, the drawing capturing the moment when they were flying.

Along with the dark eyes and determined expression, it was unmistakably Seonghwa, captured through the eyes of Hongjoong. A moment forever frozen on paper.

_Yeosang_

Yeosang groaned in frustration, raking his hands through his hair. Yunho and Yeosang where hanging out in Yeosang’s dorm room trying to get some studying done for their classes. Exams where just around the corner, but Yeosang was rather caught up in the robotics and engineering fair.

He didn’t really need the 10% bonus for the class, he was doing fine. But for some reason, he couldn’t get it out of his head. And for that reason, he signed up. He thought he was going to do pretty well, at least until he actually had to come up with an idea.

“Useless brain.” He muttered, slamming his head down on his desk. Yunho giggled from Hongjoong’s bed, surrounded by a nest of notes and textbooks.

“You know, it’s not mandatory to do the robotics competition.” He said, not looking up from his reading.

Yeosang huffed, “I know, but I want to…” Yunho looked up with a perched eyebrow. “At least I think I do.” He conceded. 

He turned back to his notes and design sketches. So far, his best idea seemed to be a self-insulating ice cream cup, but to his disappointment, it already existed, in the form of an everyday thermos.

“Everything’s already been invented!” he pouted, sliding down in his chair. He turned to Yunho, who looked content as he wrote down notes for his upcoming calculus test. Yeosang stared for a moment before deciding that peace was never an option.

“How did your date with Mingi go?”

Yunho’s pencil stopped moving.

“Fine.”

Yeosang stared. “Just fine?”

Yunho nodded, though his face began to blush slightly. “It was good.”

“Are you going to go out again?”

“Why are you interrogating me?” He huffed. “It was good, we’ve been talking about going out again, but things are busy right now with exams and stuff.” Yunho looked back down to his notes and tried to ignore Yeosang, but Yeosang would not be deterred so easily.

“Did you kiss -- ”

“How are things with Jongho?”

Yeosang straightened. Yunho looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his face. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you leaning on him at lunch the other day.”

Yeosang blushed furiously. “Go away.” He muttered under his breath.

Yunho laughed. “Hey, maybe you should ask Jongho about what to do for the project!”

Yeosang was about to yell at Yunho, but a sudden idea zipped through his mind. “Actually… that might be a good idea.”

“Really?”

Yeosang smiled triumphantly and turned back to his notes with an idea brimming on the edge of his thoughts. But before we wrote anything down, he texted Jongho.

He would need his help.

_Jongho_

**_New Message – 14:28_ **

**Yeosang [14:28]**

I need to borrow a discus.

Jongho stared hard at his phone. He was in practice taking a short break when he saw Yeosang’s message.

_A discus?_ He thought, _why would Yeosang need a discus?_ He sent Yeosang back a message and was surprised at the other’s quick response.

**Jongho [14:49]**

Can I ask why?

**Yeosang [14:49]**

I need it for a project…

It’s just and idea, but could

you please get one for

me??

**Jongho [14:50]**

Okay… does it matter

how heavy it is?

**Yeosang [14:50]**

Any weight is good.

Thank you Jongho!!!

Jongho smiled at his phone. Part of him truly wondered what the other was planning, but a bigger part of him was just happy to have another excuse to talk to Yeosang again.

“What’s got you so smiley, Jongho?”

Jongho looked up to Leedo, who held out his discus to him. Leedo was the oldest of the discus throwers, in his final year and the one with the most experience. He was also more of a captain to them than Chan was, but Chan didn’t need to know that.

“It’s nothing,” he said, putting his phone back in his bag and taking the discus from Leedo. “Just something from a friend.”

“The way you’re blushing, I think they’re more than a friend.” Leedo laughed.

Jongho ducked his head as they walked into the throwing cages, trying to hide his face. It wasn’t like Yeosang was on his mind _all_ the time, but he really didn’t want to be _just_ friends with him. When Yeosang sat with him at lunch, he felt like he was floating when the other would lean slightly into him, or touch his hand gently to get his attention.

The worst was when Yeosang smiled or _laughed_. Laughing was worse.

It was in those moments that Jongho wanted nothing more than to kiss Yeosang’s cheek or his-

“Jongho!” Leedo yelled. “Are you going to throw at all today?”

Jongho shook out his arms in an effort to quell his thoughts. He adjusted his feet in the circle, and moved his fingers to grip the disk better.

Ready.

He shifted his balance, placing his weight on his front foot. Swinging his back foot around his body, like a figure skater twirling on the ice, he swung his arm out in front of him and released the disk.

Jongho watched it fly out into the field and crash down to the ground before rolling to a stop.

Leedo whistled appreciatively. “That’s definitely more than 55 meters.”

Jongho grinned at the other and stepped out of the throwing circle. As he put his foot onto the grass he stumbled and caught himself on the side of the fence.

“Hey are you okay?” Leedo asked, a worried look on his face.

Jongho waved him off. “It’s just a cramp. It’ll go away.”

He tested his foot on the grass again, this time he didn’t fall, but he felt a sharp pain darting up his shin. He walked to retrieve his discus, hoping that the pain would go away as he walked, but it didn’t lessen.

 _Maybe my shoes are too tight,_ he thought. By the end of practice, his ankle started hurting too. He brushed it off. _I’m not hurt, I’m just cold._ He said to himself as he wrapped his ankle in gauze when he was back in the dorm room.

 _I’m not getting injured._ He told himself firmly as pulled long socks on to hide the bandage.

_San_

It had been almost a month since San had stepped foot into the gym. He had avoided everyone from the team. Hwanwoong had texted him over a hundred messages trying to annoy the other into coming back and promising San that Seungcheol wasn’t even that mad anymore.

He ignored every single message.

BM had even knocked on his door and tried to carry him to practice, but his plan dissolved quickly broke down in tears as San started crying, begging him not to take him back.

Minho tried to go through Hongjoong to convince San to go back, but Hongjoong simply stared back and said nothing.

That was it for Minho.

San had been successful at avoiding the volleyball team at every turn, but he didn’t take into account coach JB.

JB caught San after one of his anatomy lectures and somehow talked him into coming to the gym.

“I just want to talk, San.” He had said, but San wondered how much talking they were going to do as JB sat next to him on the bench, completely silent.

Eventually, San grew bored and picked up a stray volleyball from the floor, tossing it between his hands.

They continued to sit in silence before JB finally broke it.

“Why did you leave the game that day?”

San shrugged. He just remembered Seungcheol’s disappointment, the game ending too quickly and the soul-sucking feeling of failure.

“I don’t deserve to be on the team, coach.” He replied.

JB looked at him like he grew another set of arms.

“That’s not an acceptable answer. If you didn’t deserve to be on this team, I wouldn’t have called you back to the first practice last year.”

San shrunk down, rolling a volleyball between his hands. Suddenly JB grabbed the ball and stood up. “If you think you’re not good enough, you’ll have to prove that to me. Get on the other side of the net, we’re doing serve receives.”

It was a little hard to move around in jeans and a knit sweater, but San made it work. The first receive went wide and San felt his confidence dip further.

JB didn’t let him go so easy. “I didn’t spend the last year watching you become one of my best players just for you to give up now.”

He tossed the ball high in the air and San watched coach JB do a perfect jump serve, sending the ball over the net at a blazing speed.

This time, San let instinct take over. His body moved without him thinking about it and he sent the ball back to the net in a perfect arc.

Just like he used to do.

No one was there, so the ball fell in a pathetic drop, but if the setter had been there, or Minho and BM, it would have been the perfect set up to a perfect play.

San felt like he was glowing.

JB served the ball again.

For the next hour San fell into a rhythm that made him forget what had happened in the same gym only a month ago. He even started to set the ball to himself, creating his own plays, with only one player.

At some point, the door to the gym opened and San heard the booming voice of BM, who marched in taking a spot on the same side as coach JB. Next Hwanwoong stuck his head in the doorway.

“I thought I heard people in here!” He jogged to San’s side of the net and took a ready position.

“Okay now this isn’t fair,” BM explained, “coach we’re going to kill them!”

JB laughed and tossed the ball to BM for serve. “That’s the idea.”

The game continued with all of them making up the most ridiculous plays and passes, one of which included BM using his head like it was a soccer instead of a volleyball.

“Is that allowed?” Hwanwoong questioned.

“Is having only four people playing allowed?” BM shot back, a huge smiled plastered on his face. “This is more fun than a regular game!”

“That’s because you’re not playing with fair teams!” A voice sounded from behind San. He turned to find Minho, along with Seungcheol placing down their bags by the bench.

“Glad you guys found the time to join us!” JB said, welcoming them into the game. “Minho you’re on my team.”

Minho jogged to the other side, while Seungcheol took his place next to San with Hwanwoong behind the both of them.

San watched as Seungcheol sunk down into a ready position and tentatively held out a fist to San. “Truce?”

San, despite all of his fears and struggles with Seungcheol, nearly wept with relief. He smiled and got into position himself, bumping his knuckles against Seungcheol’s.

“Truce.”

San felt like magic.

The game was total chaos, with Minho and BM trying to convince JB to do crazy quick sets, and Seungcheol lifting Hwanwoong on his shoulders to block Minho’s spikes. San did a Brazilian kick to the ball instead of serving it, and BM promptly tackled him when he got too close to the half-line.

“Line violation! Line violation!” San wheezed out, still being crushed by BM. “Seriously who’s the ref for this game?”

The others were laughing themselves to tears while Hwanwoong tried desperately to pull BM off of San. Eventually, BM relented and stood up, pulling San and engulfing him in a hug.

“I’m so glad your back, San.” He said.

San nearly cried again. He had hadn’t felt this happy playing volleyball in such a long time.

As they put away the nets, coach JB announced that San would be coming back to practice starting tomorrow, and would be playing in the next game.

To San’s surprise they all cheered, including Seungcheol, who apologized profusely for what had happened a month ago.

“It’s okay Seungcheol-Hyung.” San replied. Much to his surprise, he didn’t feel anger at Seungcheol anymore.

“No, it’s not. I’m really sorry San.” He insisted.

San nodded and grabbed his bag, leaving Seungcheol alone in the gym. Before he left, he turned around to face Seungcheol once more.

“I’ll see you at practice, captain.”

Seungcheol’s face brightened and San smiled as he finally left the gym.

He didn’t realize how late it was until he looked out the glass doors that led out to the track and saw all the stadium lights off. It was dark out. He stared to walk towards the doors to head back to his dorm when a voice stopped him.

“Oh, there you are!”

San turned to face a smiling Wooyoung, dressed in a red hoodie and jeans, just like when he first met him.

“Wooyoung,” San felt his eyes go wide. “What are you doing here?”

“Hwanwoong texted me that you where here.” He said, stepping closer to San.

San felt a shot of courage and put an arm around Wooyoung’s shoulder. “It’s late, shouldn’t you be back at the dorms?”

He reveled in the way Wooyoung relaxed into his side. “Yeah but –” he was cut off by a yawn, “I wanted to see you.”

San almost asked why, but decided not to. He was just happy that Wooyoung was here.

“Alright then,” he said, looking down at Wooyoung’s tired face, “Let’s go home.”

As they walked to the dorm buildings, San kept his arm around Wooyoung. He felt warmth pool in his stomach as Wooyoung cuddled in closer when a stiff breeze passed by.

When they reached Wooyoung’s building, Wooyoung stopped suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” San asked, concern staining his voice.

Wooyoung took a breath and San suddenly braced himself for the worst.

_I don’t like you San._

_Can we just stay friends?_

_I don’t like you like_ that.

“Will you come watch my race next weekend?”

San was jolted out of his thoughts. “W-what?”

Wooyoung looked down. “I want you to come and watch me run.” He took another breath. “I-I’m not very good, but it would really mean a lot if –”

“I’ll be there.”

“Really?” Wooyoung smiled so brightly that San thought he was glowing. He nearly stumbled when Wooyoung wrapped his arms tightly around his neck.

San smiled and placed his arms around Wooyoung’s torso, squeezing him gently.

There was no way that he would miss that race.

When he returned to his dorm room, Hongjoong was still awake working on another project. San wondered if he had shown Seonghwa the drawing of the hurdler, but was too tired and happy to bother Hongjoong about it.

The next day when as they were getting ready for classes, Hongjoong noticed San pulling his volleyball bag out of his closet.

“You’re going back?” He asked, surprise coloring his voice.

San smiled to himself as he folded up his jersey and placed it in his bag. The white number 8 facing the top.

“Yeah. I’m going back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls ignore second note if it shows up :)
> 
> Sorry if there are any mistakes.
> 
> I know that things are difficult for everyone right now so, I hope this can make you smile.  
> Thank you for all your support!

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you wondering: "spikes" are the special shoes designed for track and field athletes to grip the rubber surface of the track better. They are lighter than a running shoe and they have little spikes that attach to the sole of the shoe - hence the name "spikes." Typically in off-season/pre-season, you don't train in them often and YES IT HURTS WHEN SOMEONE STEPS ON YOU WITH SPIKES ON.  
> Also, can you guess who the doctor is? HINT: he's very HOPEful


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